


Escapes

by Efstitt



Series: Keep Moving [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Author is still an angry person sorry, Bad language as usual with me, Canon Era, Crutchie has a grandpa, Escape, F/M, Grabbing and forced kissing, Gun Violence, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Deaths, Nongraphic sexual assault in chapter 19, Prison, Pulitzer’s summer home, Whump, sing sing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: So, Jack escapes from Sing Sing, which evidently was not all that hard back in the day. And Katherine loves Jack but there are, of course, problems with that. It’s possible I was slightly drunk when I wrote the story outline.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber
Series: Keep Moving [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669846
Comments: 151
Kudos: 29





	1. The Original Escape

**Author's Note:**

> I am using some terminology of this historical era, so you will see the word “crippled” pop up. It is used casually and not in an intentionally hurtful way by the characters in the story.

Jack literally ran for his life. He flung himself onto the passing train, rolled over to the open door on the other side, counted to thirty, and flung himself out into the bushes, hiding in the twilight. The long night would help, if he could stay alive that long. What did it matter. He’d be dead soon anyway, even if he stayed.

Darkness came quickly, and Jack limped quickly through a yard and helped himself to clothes left out on the line before slipping into the cargo hold of a smaller ship. If they found him, they found him. It’s not like they’d do anything new to him, except maybe kill him. Jack rubbed his face and leaned forward, his stolen shirt pulling at the fresh whip marks. The regular guard had really laid into him, showing the new guard how to do it, before handing the whip over to the new guard. He needed to learn, the regular guard told Jack. Twice the count. Jack couldn’t speak, gasping in pain, able only to blink hazily before the beating began again, the whip marks overlapping and bleeding into each other. They’d left him on the ground and taken his shirt once they were done, laughing as they watched Jack try to move. Get up, they said. Come on. Come get your shirt. Yes, boss, he’d tried to say as he moved a bit. Jack hoped against hope they would leave him alone to gather what was left of his strength. The guards kicked him hard before sauntering away, laughing some more, tossing his shirt into a muddy puddle.

He waited for the ship to stop and slunk overboard, shoes tied around his neck, the icy water cutting at him as he swam for the opposite shore, grunting a soft whimper as water sloshed over his back. Dragging himself out, he wrung out his clothes as best he could and started walking. They’d be searching for him for sure by now.

Santa Fe, sure. Anyplace but Sing Sing. He couldn’t imagine surviving Sing Sing if he hadn’t been to the Refuge as often as he had. Good work, Snyder, he thought bitterly. The failed strike landed all but him in the Refuge. Close enough to eighteen, they said. Make him the example.

He’d gritted through the coldest days, not wanting to risk ice on the river. Breaking rocks in the quarry was harder than selling papes, but it kept you warmer for sure. Once his hands had toughened up and he knew the rules, he’d been able to get through most days. Learning the rules, depending on which guard was watching you. Which one liked to pour water on you from the ledge above in the freezing cold. Which one liked using his whip. But no matter what, Jack slept inside. And most days they ate. But the day Jack got caught shoveling some of his rocks into another inmate’s pile to help him make his quota was the day Jack found out that guards didn’t want him thinking that hard. They watched. And punished.

As dawn began to break, Jack focused on a hiding place. He figured a good week on the road, out of sight, would get him far enough away so that they’d give up on him. He crept through a grove of trees, waiting to see if someone was already in the barn across the field. No sounds, no movement. He got to the barn and pulled himself into the loft, hiding in the back corner under some hay. 

“I know you’re up there,” a young voice called. “Come on down. I ain’t gonna hurt you unless you plan to hurt me.” Jack didn’t move. “Come on down,” the boy called again. “You hungry?”

Jack listened carefully. He could take one kid, easy. He moved to the edge of the loft and looked down.

“Hello,” waved a crippled kid. “We got breakfast ready if you want some. Grandpa don’t mind strangers, as long as you’re nice.”

Jack nodded and came down the ladder. “You got a name?” he asked the kid.

“Charlie,” he said. “What’s yours?”

Jack paused. “Tony.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tony. I saw you go across the field. What do you like for breakfast? Grandpa’s a good cook.” Charlie led Jack out of the barn. Jack stayed in the barn doorway for a moment to make sure no bulls were out there. All was quiet save the noises from the barn.

“It don’t matter.”

They got to the back porch of the house and Jack stopped. “What’s the matter?” asked Charlie. “The food’s inside, you know.” 

“Yeah, uh, never mind,” said Jack. “I’m good. Thanks for the offer.” He tried to smile at the kid and walked down toward the road. West was easy enough to find at this time of day. So much for getting some sleep, but you can’t always get what you want, can you, Kelly. He brushed some hay off of his clothes as he walked. His head started to swirl a little. Kelly, think. He stumbled a bit. Just get out of sight. Then you can sit. Keep going.

“Hey!” shouted Charlie. “Where’re you going?”

Jack turned and raised his hand to wave, which was enough to send him off balance into the ditch. Shit. He grabbed at the weeds, crawling back up to the road. He looked back at Charlie and the man who must be his grandfather. Who was coming towards him, fast. Jack got up, his wounds reopening, and tried to brace himself. 

The older man slowed as he got closer to Jack. “Come back, son. We got plenty.”

Jack looked at him suspiciously. “Anyone else in there,” he asked, pointing his chin at the house.

“Nope. Just an old man and a crippled kid. Come eat.” He turned back to the house.

Jack watched for a moment, and then followed.


	2. Jack is a Terrible Escapee

Jack hung back in the doorway, watching Charlie and his grandpa head toward the kitchen. It smelled really good. He glanced around the main room as he stepped inside. Not a lot to steal. A hunting rifle, though. That could be handy, but awfully heavy. He wasn’t that used to guns, either. A couple of blankets sat on the rocking chair by the fireplace. Take one of those, Kelly. He could feel his shirt start sticking to his back as the blood seeped through. He closed his eyes for a moment. You can rest later. They’ll scab later. Go take their food.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Charlie was sitting, already with his plate. His grandpa was at the stove, making potatoes and eggs. A pitcher of milk sat on the table. Charlie watched Jack. “Take a plate,” he said. “My grandpa’s name is Ben, by the way.”

Jack stepped toward the table and took a plate. Ben turned and motioned for him to come over. “Come here and I’ll fill it up.” Jack held out his plate instead. No way was he getting near that stove. He wasn’t born yesterday.

The old man took the plate and filled it, handing it back to Jack and pointing over at the table. “Have a seat.”

“Yes, boss,” said Jack automatically. He sat at the table, his back to the wall, and waited. He stared at the forks and knives on the table, shocked. He pulled a little at his shirt, trying to get it to unstick, grimacing at the overwhelming burning feeling. Charlie was giving him a funny look.

“You can eat,” said Ben. Jack saw him give Charlie a look.

“Thank you, boss,” said Jack again. He leaned forward, wrapped his arm around his plate, and held his face about two inches over his food. He grabbed the spoon nearby on the table and shoved everything into his mouth with the spoon and his fingers, keeping a close eye on Ben and Charlie as he ate. Finished, he sat up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His back stung harshly and Jack just wanted to go. What did these two want from him anyway, he wondered. But the old man hadn’t said he could get up. Jack sat, watching Ben fix a plate for himself and sit across from Jack. Not much else to steal, but they did seem to have plenty of food. Jack eyed the loaf of bread on the counter. 

“Where’d you get that shiner, Tony?” Ben asked.

Jack tried to smile a little. “A guy I know disagreed with me.”

“Hmm. Where you headed?”

“Santa Fe.” Jack started to feel a little dizzy. He shifted in his seat as Charlie leaned back, peering around Jack.

“Grandpa...” Charlie started.

“Is that right.”

“Yes, boss.” Shit, he kept saying that. Fuck them all. “Yes, sir. I got family out there.” He squeezed his eyes shut but forced them open again, remembering Ben had a fork in his hand. He grabbed his own knife from the table.

“Grandpa!” Charlie repeated. “Grandpa, look,” he said, pointing at Jack’s back. Charlie pushed his chair back and came closer to Jack, still holding his knife. “He’s hurt bad!” 

Jack didn’t care if this kid was crippled or had three heads. No kid with a knife was coming this close to him. Jack stood up, knocked the knife out of Charlie’s hand, and grabbed Charlie, putting him in front of his chest. Jack put his own knife to Charlie’s throat.

“I don’t know what your game is, but you keep your knife away from me, understand? And that fork, too.” Jack gestured at Ben’s fork. He could feel Charlie freeze in his grip. “What do you want from me? Why you being so nice? Gimme that bread, old man.” He gestured to the loaf on the counter. “Put it in a bag or something. And your money. You got that?”

Jack pulled Charlie close to the back door. “Charlie here is gonna get a horse ready for me, too. Move it, old man! I said I wanted that bread and your money!” His back throbbed and bled. Why wasn’t Ben moving? 

“Tony, don’t. What were you in for, son?” Ben asked.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck do you care? I said get the money and the bread or I’ll put this knife into this kid. Don’t think I won’t. And get a blanket too.”

“Tell me what you were in for and I’ll give you everything you want,” said Ben. “Don’t hurt Charlie, Tony.”

Jack shook his head, trying to clear it. “I ain’t telling you nothing.” He grabbed Charlie harder and pushed him out the back door toward the barn. “Get a horse ready, kid,” he rasped. “Don’t try nothing funny.”

He turned back to Ben and put a hand on the table, leaning forward with the knife. “I could just kill you myself and take everything I want.” He blinked, trying to focus. 

“You probably could,” said Ben. “Let me get it all for you.” Ben stood up slowly and took a sack from the corner of the kitchen. He put in the bread and reached into his pocket for the coins he had. 

“The blanket’s in the other room,” said Ben. “Want me to go get it?” Jack nodded, resting both hands on the table, his forehead sweating. Wait, no. Don’t get the blanket. Jack lifted his head to stop Ben.

Ben walked slowly into the other room and came back pointing the hunting rifle at Jack. “Put the knife down, Tony,” he ordered. “I’m a good shot.”

Jack dropped the knife and got on his knees, hands up behind his head. Getting shot would be a better death than what they’d do to him at Sing Sing. “Go ahead,” he said. “Shoot me. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Ben lowered the gun. “Charlie said you were hurt bad. Let me take a look. You drop all this mess with the knife and everything and we can start over.” 

Jack narrowed his eyes and swayed. He couldn’t do it anymore. Just let Ben shoot him. He dropped his hands and fell in a heap on the floor.


	3. Ben

“Grandpa, is that what they really do?” Charlie whispered, eyes glued to Jack. “We’ve had ex cons before but they didn’t look like that. No one ever used a knife like that either.”

Ben dabbed at Jack’s back with a damp cloth. “Some men have more trouble than others. Men,” he huffed. “Tony can’t be much older than you.”

“Are you mad, Grandpa? About what he tried to do?” Charlie winced as Ben dipped the bloody rag into the bucket and kept working.

“No, I ain’t mad. He couldn’t have ridden out of here if he’d been tied to the horse. Did he scare you?”

Charlie nodded. 

“I’m sure he’ll feel sorry once he’s healed up some. Maybe not. We’ll send him off with enough to last a couple of days, and with any luck he’ll make it wherever he’s headed. He’s more scared than anything else, Charlie, remember that. But that’s what makes him dangerous, too.” Charlie nodded again, eyes still fastened on Jack’s back.

Jack awoke slowly, his back still throbbing, but he felt bandages now covering the worst of things. It was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen lamp. He lay where he had gotten on his knees, he realized. Too hard for them to drag him, probably. He felt around, trying to move. They hadn’t hurt him more. He definitely had not been shot. He groaned as he tried to get onto all fours, grabbing for a chair seat to help him get up. Whoever had fixed him up had done a better job than Race had ever done at the Refuge.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ben asked. “You ain’t in no shape to move. I can’t even make out how you made it this far.” Jack turned as fast as he could, now seeing Ben’s figure in the corner, holding his rifle.

Jack snorted. “Fuck you. I been on work detail in worse shape than this. You ain’t shot me yet. So I’ll just take that bread and money and be on my way. Where’s my shirt, old man?”

“On the chair next to you.” Ben pointed. Jack reached for it and got his arms in the sleeves. It was damp. “I got a lot of the blood out. But that ain’t exactly yours, though, is it. It don’t fit you even close. You didn’t just get out, did you, Tony? You’re on the run.”

Jack took the bread from the counter. “I’m taking a blanket, too,” he said. “Try and stop me.”

Ben lowered the gun so it was pointing at Jack. “You owe me. You scared the daylights out of my grandson, who was just trying to be kind to you. That boy has been nothing but joy to me all his life and I ain’t about to stand by and watch you take advantage of him like you did. You’re gonna stay till morning and apologize to him, you understand?”

“You even know how to fire that thing?” Jack laughed. “Gimme your money or I’ll get you looking worse than me.” He ran his wrist under his nose and held out his hand.

“No,” said Ben. “Tony, if that’s your real name, you won’t have my money right now. You stay and apologize to Charlie and then I’ll get you set for two days. I’m not real keen on harboring a fugitive, but it looks to me like you’ve paid your dues for whatever you done.”

Jack hesitated. Ben wasn’t going to fire that gun, he’d be willing to bet. Jack could get his money from him, easy. But two days worth... Ben must have been the one to fix him up, and he had fed him, too. Two days worth, just for one little apology? Jack wasn’t sure what kind of weakling needed an apology when ain’t nothing happened to him, but it’d be easy enough to do.

“Okay,” said Jack. “One apology, and you’ll set me up for two days?” Ben nodded. “You got a deal.”

“And your name,” said Ben. “Your real name.”

Jack looked up sharply. “Why? Is there a reward or something out for me? You wanna make sure you have the right fella before turning me in, is that it? My name’s Tony.”

“The hell it is. Your name, son. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Ben’s voice got gentler. “I don’t know how a kid like you ended up in Sing Sing. Don’t tell me you weren’t. But I ain’t gonna be the one to send you back.”

Jack waited a full minute, watching Ben wait patiently. “What do you want from me,” he croaked. “You give me food, you wrapped me up, and now you say you’ll set me up if I say I’m sorry. What do you want? I ain’t got nothing. And I don’t do favors for payment.” He shifted his shoulders. He had done favors, of course, like every other kid he knew. But Ben didn’t know that. “So what’s this all about?”

Ben sighed. “Just apologize to Charlie. That’s all I want.”

Jack lay wrapped up in a blanket in front of the kitchen stove, watching Ben sit in the chair, still with his gun, fucking holding him hostage. He tried to rest, but it was so quiet. No yells, no banging on bars, no fights. He wondered about Race and Albert and everyone for the first time in a long time. He’d let them all down, he knew that. He’d been doing good, too, until that stupid strike. Well, kinda good. Not too many favors to keep the younger kids fed. He bet Race was getting the shit beat out of him at the Refuge without Jack there. Jack really missed talking to Race, for sure, telling him about his day. The other inmates were usually older than Jack, pushing him around to see how much he could take, laughing at his inability to grow a good mustache or a beard. Little girl, they said, until they saw the kind of beating he could take without screaming. But there was no Race to help him feel better after. Jack felt a tear slide down his face, which he violently pushed away. Another came, and another. He quietly wiped them on the blanket, wishing he could sniffle but not daring. He gasped as silently as he knew how.

“You missing someone?” asked Ben.

“Fuck you,” said Jack.

“I miss my wife. And my son. He’s the one who’s Charlie’s father. He died in an accident with the factory machinery a few months before Charlie was born. Charlie’s mother died in childbirth. It’s just been us for a long while. I’d go crazy without him.”

Jack shrugged in his blanket. “Oh.” His stomach dropped as he thought about Race. Maybe Jack really was going crazy without him. Race knew everything about Jack, and Jack knew everything about Race.

“Why’d you get whipped like that, Tony.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. “I told a new guard he was a piece of shit for picking on a new guy.” He struggled to sit up and look at Ben in the low lamplight. 

Ben let out a low whistle. “They got you good, kid. Shit, you got balls.”

Jack paused. “My name’s Jack Kelly.”


	4. Hide and Seek

Jack watched Ben sleep in his chair, gun still held firmly in his hands. Why not just help himself and get gone, no apology needed. It’d be better to move at night anyway. Jack eased himself up, stopping when the floor creaked a little. No movement from Ben. Jack kept moving slowly, biting his lip as his bandages shifted. He found the sack Ben had used earlier and crept over to the counter, filling it with anything he could. Onions, the bread, some dried apples. He reached into the bin for some potatoes. This would last him more than two days for sure. Sorry, Ben, he thought. He looked out the window at the slowly lightening sky. He’d better move. He turned to the front door and opened it before slamming it shut. Where had that man come from? 

“Beat it,” whispered Charlie on the steps above him. “The root cellar, the door’s in the floor in the kitchen. Go hide.”

Jack clutched the bag and ran back to the kitchen, waking Ben up as he yanked open the trap door and peered down. 

“Grandpa! Someone’s coming!” Charlie yelled.

Ben glanced at Jack and his sack, grabbed the sack, and threw it down into the root cellar. He waved Jack down, dropping the door on top of him. “Hide, boy,” was all he said.

Jack could hear Charlie come into the kitchen, and he heard him whispering with Ben. A clatter on the stove, some wood thrown in, and the scraping of the chairs was all he could make out as he let his eyes get adjusted to the cellar. He felt around, finding some wood stacked in one corner, barrels in another. He froze as he heard pounding on the door to the house.

“Ben! You home? Charlie? We got a fugitive on the loose.” Jack unfroze and desperately felt inside each barrel, trying to figure out how to shift things around. “Ben!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m an old man, or so I’ve been told,” Jack heard Ben shout. He was funny, Ben. “I’m coming.” He thought he heard the rattle of the rifle being put back in place and the door slowly being opened. “Good morning, Arnold. What brings you by?”

“We gotta search your property. A convict escaped from Sing Sing and they ain’t found him yet. They thought maybe he come down this way.”

“Now why would they think that? And what would anyone want with my little place here?”

“Ben, just let us search it. Boys! The barn!” Arnold waved the men who had followed him down the drive to the barn. “Can I come in?”

“What, you think he’s in my house without me knowing? I might be old, but I ain’t senile. And if I didn’t notice, I’m sure Charlie would have. With any luck he’d tell me if a convict was sitting at our table for dinner.”

“I gotta say I searched every place on my route, Ben. Lemme in and I’ll make it quick.” Arnold moved to come in, but Ben didn’t move. 

“Move or I’ll have to arrest you,” said Arnold hesitantly. Ben started to smile.

“Have it your way. You hungry? Charlie’s making breakfast.” Ben finally moved. From what Jack could hear, Charlie had decided to make a breakfast of cannonballs and train tracks the way he was rattling around the kitchen. Jack appreciated that.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Arnold. “What you got, Charlie?” he called as he came in.

“What?” shouted Charlie, as he crashed another cast iron pan on the stove. “You want breakfast?” Arnold nodded and pointed at the stove. “You got it! Coming up!”

Charlie reached for a plate and let it drop onto the floor. “Sorry, Grandpa!” He crunched over the broken pieces as he slowly and carefully went back for another plate, filling it with burned toast and nearly burned bacon. Finally Arnold had a plate of food and started to dig in.

“So who are you looking for, exactly,” asked Ben, after Arnold had crunched into his toast. 

“He’s a nasty one. One of them Irish thugs. Long history of trouble and was finally caught after he led a pretty bloody strike in the city. Gang leader type, you know. Been in and out of jail since he was a kid and should probably stay in one forever from the looks of it.” Arnold bit into his bacon, filling the kitchen with its crackling sound.

“What’s his name, I meant,” said Ben. “If you want us to help look for him we gotta know what he looks like. Telling what he done don’t tell us what he looks like.”

“His name’s Jack Kelly. Brown hair, not too tall. Warden said he’d be banged up with a black eye after he got what was coming to him the other day. They want him back bad, too. They said Kelly had decided to argue with a guard, so they slapped him around a little. Normal stuff, right. So then later they found someone had put horseshit in the guards’ soup tureen, but when they went to get him he was gone. They think he did it. So now they want him for escaping and for that.”

Ben nodded solemnly. “Sounds like a terror, all right. How’s the food?”

“Mmm. Good. Thanks, Charlie.”

“You want more?” shouted Charlie. Jack rolled his eyes.

“Ben, I still gotta look around,” said Arnold, pushing back his chair, taking his last piece of bacon in his hands. “I’ll start upstairs.”

“Well, shit, Arnold, ain’t no convict in bed with me or Charlie last night. But take a look anyway,” Ben shrugged. Arnold clomped upstairs as Ben watched. Jack could hear only some whispering. As Arnold came back down, Jack heard Charlie and Ben both move around the kitchen, cleaning up. “All set?”

“Yeah,” Arnold said, pointing at the root cellar door in the floor. “I gotta check that too.” He tried to get past Charlie and Ben, setting them all off in an awkward dance around the kitchen, Charlie holding his frying pan, nearly losing his balance as he tried to get to the sink. Ben got out of his way, backing into Arnold, who held onto Ben’s shoulders as he edged around him to the trap door.

Jack held his breath. 

“Want me to do it, Arnold?” asked Ben. “I’d hate for you to get attacked by my potatoes.”

No reply from Arnold as he crept down the stairs. He paused and waited. He picked up the sack from the floor, dumping out the bread and onions and apples. He drew out his gun. “You down here, Kelly?” he asked quietly. He walked a step toward the barrels.

Jack shut his eyes, his head bowed as far down as he could.

A shot rang out as a bullet punched through the barrel next to him. Jack clenched his fists even harder. At least it would be quick.

”What the hell do you think you’re doing, Arnold? Get out of my cellar! Get out! What, the apples look vicious to you?” Ben stormed down the steps and came over to Arnold. “Out. Now.”

Arnold held up the sack. “You’re lying to me, Ben.”

“Getting a sack together for Widow Vandermark is a crime now? I was down here when you came, you knucklehead. Get out. See you at church, you ass.” Ben grabbed the sack and held his arm out to show Arnold to the steps. Arnold gave Ben a disgruntled look and stomped up the stairs.

Once the trap door slapped shut, Jack allowed himself a breath. 


	5. I Am the Egg Man

Jack listened to himself breathe. He’d lived. He’d made it, again. He kept his head down, clenching and unclenching his fists. He breathed hard to make sure it was him breathing. Maybe he should have stayed in prison. Which was worse, he wondered. At least he knew what he was up against each day at Sing Sing. He kept breathing until he heard the trap door open again. He crouched over and stopped breathing.

“Jack?” Ben called, coming down to the cellar. “They’re gone.” Jack stayed where he was, listening for other sets of footsteps, maybe creeping along behind Ben, ready to spring the trap. Ben had seen his sack. Maybe it was all an act, throwing Arnold out, so that Jack would come up and be easier to drag out of here. 

“Jack,” called Charlie from the kitchen, “they really are gone.” Yeah, the kid he’d nearly stabbed would probably want to see him get arrested. But he had told Jack about the cellar... Jack lifted his head just enough to see Ben standing in front of him. No one was behind him. Jack still didn’t speak.

“Come upstairs,” said Ben. “Have some breakfast.” Jack clutched his knees to his chest and started breathing again, big gulps of air.

Ben waited. “Tell you what. Come up when you’re ready.” He went back up to the kitchen, leaving the door open. Jack bent his head back down and put his hands over his head. He’d never get out of here alive. He’d escaped, and for what. He blew out his cheeks a few times, trying to figure out what to do next. He could kill Ben and Charlie and live here. He could run away in the night and hope he escaped the notice of the posses looking for him. Not likely. They knew this area and he didn’t. He could turn himself in. He lost his breath thinking of the punishments awaiting him. He could stay here in the basement. He was alive down here, for now. That would have to be good enough. Just stay here. Alive. Gradually Jack’s breathing slowed. It was quiet down here. It sure sounded like Ben and Charlie were the only people up in the kitchen. He was safe down here, then. He let his legs relax a little, and crossed his arms in front of him as he leaned back in the barrel. A wave of exhaustion overtook him, and he closed his eyes. 

When Jack awoke, he still didn’t want to move. No bosses shoving him around, no one pointing a gun at him to make him stay, no selling, no Snyder, no nothing. Just him. Still alive. He rubbed his eye with the inside of his wrist. He felt a little better. But no way was he going up without being prepared. He put his head up and glanced around the cellar. Some tools were leaned up in the corner. That should do it. He ached as he pulled himself up and forced himself to walk quietly on his now wobbly legs to the corner. He paused to catch his balance. What did he have here. A saw. He would saw Arnold in half? He thought about some of the advertisements he’d seen for magicians in the city. A sledgehammer. Of course it was. Shit. Jack had learned more about sledgehammers in the past year than he ever cared to know. But even so, a better weapon than the saw. He lifted it quietly, slowly weighing it in his hands in a practiced way. He thought he’d been strong going to prison, with carrying papes and walking for hours every day, staying in good enough shape to win more fights than lose. But swinging this thing from dawn to dark had taught him a lot. He laughed a little, silently. His hands had bled for days, wrapped in rags he’d ripped from from his blanket, until they’d toughened up. He hadn’t met quota at first because of the pain. He thought about the one guard who’d made him stay his first day, working by lamplight, until he had. The next times he’d been short the other guard had swiftly chained Jack to the post and whipped him unconscious. Jack had learned to keep up fast.

Jack listened again for footsteps upstairs. It sounded like someone was in the kitchen, and someone was in the front room. He crept up the steps, holding the sledgehammer ready. He peered into the kitchen.

Ben looked up from the table where he was patching some pants. “Welcome back,” he said. “You looking for more rocks to break?”

Jack didn’t answer. He came up into the kitchen and slowly approached the front room. Charlie was in there, reading. 

Charlie looked up. “Hi,” he said. He saw the sledgehammer in Jack’s hands and gave Jack an apprehensive look. “That don’t look friendly.”

“It ain’t for you,” said Jack quietly. He checked the windows and went back into the kitchen, looking out the window toward the barn.

Ben watched him. “They’re gone, Jack. They really are.”

Jack nodded at last, satisfied there wasn’t a trap. He put the sledgehammer down in the corner and faced Ben. “Thanks. You still willing to keep our deal? An apology for two days of supplies?” Jack swallowed a little. “I know you saw what I was doing this morning. I get it if the deal is off.”

“The deal has changed,” said Ben. “An apology will get you two more days staying here. You have to let your trail cool a little.” Jack felt his entire body stiffen. Stay here? 

“No deal,” said Jack. “I ain’t putting you in danger no more. They find me here you’ll be swinging one of these too.” He pointed at the sledgehammer. “Just forget it.”

Jack walked back into the front room and stood in front of Charlie, who stopped reading and met Jack’s gaze. “I’m real sorry I was mean to you yesterday, Charlie. You ain’t done nothing wrong. And thanks for helping me stay alive today.” He looked back into the kitchen. “All right, you hear that, Ben?”

“I heard it,” said Ben. “You’re welcome to stay.” 

Jack shook his head. “I’m leaving tonight as soon as it’s dark. That’s not your deal, I know. I don’t need no supplies. You done enough for me.”

“Did you really lead the newspaper strike in the city?” asked Charlie. “That’s what Arnold said and Grandpa said that must’ve been the one.”

Jack ground his teeth. He really didn’t need to talk about this right now. “Yeah, that was me. One big failure.”

“That’s not why Charlie asked, Jack,” interjected Ben. “You head out from here, and you run straight into Pulitzer’s summer estate. Most of the men looking for you work for him.”

Jack felt his body drain what was left of his hope of escape. Jack fucking Kelly, luckiest man on earth, he thought angrily. He stared at Ben in silence, unable to come up with anything to say.

“I can get you through, though,” said Charlie. “I sell them all their eggs, right? And Grandpa still has his old wagon from before the war, and it has this false bottom for folks to hide in. Lemme show you.” Charlie got up and took his crutch under his arm. “Come on.”

Jack followed Charlie out to the barn, and saw there would be plenty of room to hide in. “But don’t folks know about this by now,” he asked. “How secret is it?”

“Nobody got caught in all the years Grandpa used it, and he ain’t told no one about it since,” said Charlie, grinning, “except me, of course.”

Jack nodded. Top and bottom latches were clever. “So what’s the plan?”

Charlie kept grinning. “I sell my eggs to them in a couple of days like I always do, and then we go on our way to places on the other side. I don’t usually do that, but I’ve done it a few times. And then once we’re there, you slip out and head out west. And when you get rich, you send me a ticket to come cook for your ranch.” Jack smiled a tiny bit. This kid thought a long way ahead.

Jack shrugged. “I ain’t got a better idea,” he said. Why not.


	6. Jack Finds A Smile

“Jack, do you know how to sew?” called Ben. 

Jack looked up as he came back in with Charlie, startled. “No, boss.” He closed his eyes. Fuck. Ben didn’t seem to mind.

“Come here and I’ll show you. It’s a useful skill, and if we got two days to kill, you might as well learn something.” Ben nodded at the seat next him at the kitchen table.

Jack sat down, looking uneasily at Charlie. Charlie smiled and waved as he headed back outside now that Jack had been safely deposited. “You can see my chickens later, Jack.”

“Watch here,” said Ben, holding up the needle and threading it. Jack watched intently. “Now you try.”

Jack clumsily took the needle and thread, trying to imitate what he had just seen. His fingers weren’t used to such tiny things, he realized. Finally he got it, and held up the threaded needle triumphantly. Ben smiled approvingly. The next hour passed quickly as Ben let Jack practice on the rag pile. Jack thought back to the lodging house, and how useful this would have been. He could have fixed so many things this way. He could have kept more kids warmer if he’d had the chance. He peered intently at his work, trying hard to make the stitches even like Ben did. The quiet stretched as the two of them worked.

“What’re you thinking about, Jack,” asked Ben.

“Nothing, boss,” said Jack quickly.

“Want to try a real project? I put a rip in my dish towel that needs to be mended,” said Ben.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “You want me to do that? I’m gonna make it worse,” he said. What happened then, he wondered. “You won’t like it.”

Ben laughed. “It’s a dish towel. It ain’t a dress for Queen Victoria.” He handed the towel to Jack. Jack tentatively took the dish towel and looked it over. Maybe he could fix it. He bent over the towel with his needle, going as slowly and carefully as he could, checking his work with Ben every two or three stitches. If Ben didn’t like it then Jack would be able to tell, he hoped. What did Ben do when he was mad, Jack wondered. What would he do to him? He thought about the rifle in the next room and wondered how good a shot Ben really was. He tried to look around the room out of the corners of his eyes. No strap that he could see, anyway. Ben’s belt wasn’t too thick, it didn’t look like. Maybe he whipped Charlie in the barn? He should have looked when he was out there. Shit. What was he so worried about, he asked himself angrily. He could take an old man. Jack eyed the counter to make sure he knew where the knives were kept, in case a good punch or two didn’t do the trick.

Jack started to sweat a little, his hands slipping just a bit on the final stitches. Finally, he finished and held it out to Ben. He pushed back his chair, away from Ben, checking on the door. He watched Ben look at the towel.

“Not bad,” said Ben. Jack watched him some more, just in case. Ben folded up the towel and tossed it back over towards the sink. Jack didn’t move, watching Ben’s hands and face. Nothing happened. Ben was finishing up his own sewing, and didn’t even look at Jack. Jack started to breathe again.

“Why don’t you go admire Charlie’s chickens,” said Ben, still not looking up. “He’s very proud of them.”

“Yes, boss,” said Jack, stunned. He got up and went to the door, checking out the window first. “Thank you.” Ben grunted and started putting his materials away. Jack bent his head a little and went to find Charlie.

Jack wrapped himself in the blanket again, sitting in front of the kitchen stove, assuring Ben he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d leave with Charlie’s egg delivery the day after tomorrow, he promised, no sooner. Ben shook his hand and went upstairs to bed, telling Charlie to come up soon. Charlie sat on a chair near the stove, keeping Jack company. Jack’s thoughts wandered to the dinner he’d helped Charlie make. Real cooking, that was. Jack had stuffed himself and they hadn’t seemed to mind one bit. He could get used to this, he thought. Yes, he could. After dinner Jack had let Ben check his back again, startled at the idea, but once Ben was done putting fresh bandages on, Jack had felt so much better, so cool and clean feeling. How was this possible, he wondered. He felt a little guilty about how he’d spoken to Ben the night before.

“You really don’t know nothing about cooking, do you,” said Charlie. “You about made my dinner look bad with my grandpa.”

Jack shrugged. “Ain’t no kitchen in the lodging house,” he said. He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared through the grate into the stove. 

“Don’t no one cook there?”

“Nope,” said Jack.

“Oh.”

“So you know Pulitzer?” asked Jack. “When you sell your eggs to him?”

Charlie laughed. “No. I sell to his cook, or whoever’s around. It depends on the time of year, how many people are there, how much they want, that kind of thing. I seen him from a distance, but that’s about it. Why, did you meet him ever? Or just try to destroy his business?”

A corner of Jack’s mouth turned up a little. “Yeah, I met him. He trapped me with his goons, and they, you know, they worked me over pretty good before arresting me. I saw him one other time in court when he talked to the judge about sending me to Sing Sing. Just strolled on up there to the bench. I ain’t even eighteen yet, but the judge...” Jack trailed off. He could still feel the cuffs tight behind his back as the judge handed down his sentence, Pulitzer smiling off to the side of the bench.

“Charlie, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How come you didn’t just hand me over and send me back to prison this morning? I said I’d stab you yesterday, and you act like I ain’t done nothing.”

Charlie didn’t look at Jack. “I watched Grandpa fix you up the first time. He said you’d paid enough for whatever you done, whatever it was. He said you probably would be sorry once you was feeling better.”

“Oh.” Jack waited a minute. “I said I was sorry earlier. But now I really am.”

“I know,” said Charlie. “Want to help me make breakfast tomorrow?”

Jack smiled a real smile. How long had it been, he wondered, thinking of Race. “I ain’t making no burned crap like you did this morning,” he said.

“Hey, now,” said Charlie. “Only a great chef can make things bad on purpose.” He grabbed his crutch and headed for the stairs. “See you in the morning.”

Jack gave him a wave and watched him hop up the stairs. He turned back to the stove and held out his hands, soaking in the warmth.


	7. You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

Jack laid awake in the quiet, remembering the best day he had had in a long time. He wished Race had been there with him. He would have liked Ben, Jack thought. And he would have laughed at Jack trying to help Charlie with breakfast. Beating the eggs, Jack! Jack had been so confused. Charlie wanted him to do what? What if he broke the bowl? Luckily Ben and Charlie had both thought that was funny. Jack had laughed too, taking the little fork to do what had sounded like such a big job. So stupid, but stupidly funny.

He knew they didn’t need his help in the barn, but he had made sure to do all of Charlie’s chores anyway. Charlie didn’t exactly object, he grinned to himself. Ben had nodded approvingly at Jack when they came back in, Charlie still clean and Jack mucked up. Jack would have worked all day for Ben at that rate. 

Jack propped himself up at the sound of steps in the dark, coming from upstairs.

“You still awake, Jack?” Ben asked in the dark.

“Yes, sir,” said Jack. “It’s too quiet.”

“You’re heading out with Charlie in the morning, then, in the wagon?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jack again. “I listened good at dinner. We’ll be fine.” Jack wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure how. Thanks for letting him eat as much as he wanted. Thanks for teaching him how to sew and cook a little. Thanks for taking care of him. Thanks for saving his life. Jack was silent.

Ben dragged over a chair and sat near Jack. “You tell us where you are, okay, when you’re safe from all this? I want to know. Charlie ain’t got many friends, you know. It’s hard for him to keep up with the other boys. That’s why I took him out of school, so he wouldn’t have to put up with that no more. Not too many of them are as kind as you.”

Kind. Jack jolted with the realization that Ben didn’t know him at all. It was just wishful thinking, Kelly, dreaming of staying here forever. “You don’t want Charlie around me too much, Ben,” he said quietly. “You saw me when I got here. I said I’d stab him. That’s all I am. I ain’t nice or kind. I’ll tell you where I am if you want me to, somehow, but I ain’t Charlie’s friend.”

Ben sat for a while as Jack laid back down and faced away from him. He liked Charlie, sure, but he was not his friend. He wasn’t. What did Ben want, he wondered for the hundredth time. Jack pulled the blanket over his head and pretended to sleep, hoping Ben would go away. He’d never see Ben again anyway, shit was he upset about that? Quit fucking crying. Was Ben gone yet? No. Fuck. He heard Ben get out of his chair and sit on the floor next to him. At the touch of his hand on Jack’s shoulder, Jack started to cry harder and couldn’t stop. 

Ben followed Jack and Charlie out to the barn in the near dark. “Okay, Jack, take the sledgehammer and break the wheel good,” he said.

Jack hefted the hammer and gave a wheel of the newer wagon a tremendous hit on the rim. The metal rim dented into a deep V as the wooden wheel cracked apart completely. Whoops. “Sorry, Ben. I guess I got it, though, huh.”

Ben blew out his cheeks. “Yup, you sure did. Well, if anyone comes to check on Charlie’s story, they will surely see me hard at work fixing that thing. I must’ve hit the biggest rock in the state of New York.”

“Sorry,” Jack repeated, wincing. “Guess I know how to break stone, not wood.”

“Let’s get going,” said Charlie impatiently. “I still gotta get loaded up over Jack.” He pointed for Jack to get in the back of the old wagon, down in the compartment.

Jack turned to Ben and held out his hand. “Sorry I was a jackass. You been good to me, and I won’t forget it.”

Ben shook his hand. “Proud to know you, Jack. You take care.” Jack nodded and climbed into the bottom of the cart. He saluted Charlie as he closed the top of the compartment. He didn’t hear much other than Charlie loading up his orders in the cart saying goodbye to Ben. A sudden lurch and they were on their way.

Jack’s teeth nearly rattled out of his head as they made their way to Pulitzer’s. Visions of his bloody tongue dripping through the bottom of the wagon ran through his mind. Or his shattered bones, sifting through the cracks. This was a terrible idea, he realized. A particularly rough bump told Jack that maybe this wagon was not as sturdy as Charlie had said it was. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and all of his carpenter friends, Jack never thought he’d know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a sledgehammer, but this must be pretty close.

Jack felt Charlie turn, and wondered if this was the drive to the Pulitzer place. Of course he had a summer estate, he thought. It probably takes up half the state. Another strong jolt, and Jack heard the latch to the side of his leg groan a little. 

“Hey, Spotty!” Charlie shouted. “I got your eggs!” 

“Hey, Charlie,” said a voice Jack assumed belonged to Spotty. “You’re early this morning.”

“I am?” asked Charlie. “Guess I didn’t read the clock right again.”

“That’s okay, Charlie. Lemme go get your money.” 

“Okay. I’ll just pull over by the barn, okay?” Charlie eased the cart over towards the barn, or so Jack guessed. The cart latch groaned again. Jack held as still as he could as they waited for Charlie’s money. He heard footsteps approaching and hoped it was Spotty so they could be on their way.

“Here you go, Charlie. You don’t gotta get down. I got it, kid.” Spot was right over Jack, taking out the crate of eggs. “What’re you doing with this old thing? Something happen to your regular wagon?”

“I ran it over a stone or something. The wheel’s busted. Grandpa’s not real happy with me,” replied Charlie. “I don’t know what happened.” Charlie sure could sound stupid when he wanted to, Jack thought. 

It was at that moment that the latch by Jack’s leg gave way and he fell out onto the ground.


	8. How to Meet Girls

Charlie and Spot were silent for a moment, staring at each other as Jack crouched under the wagon. Spot leaned down to grab Jack’s arm, but Jack was ready and punched Spot in the face as he jumped out. 

“Watch out, Charlie!” shouted Spot. “Stay up there!” He punched Jack back as Jack tried to dodge around him. Jack took the hit on the side of his head and staggered, but came back to try to twist Spot’s arm behind him and pin him to the wagon. Spot ducked and turned Jack up against the wagon instead. As Jack struggled to get free, Spot glanced up at Charlie and froze. Jack kept struggling against Spot’s iron grip, suddenly breaking free as Spot released him. Jack turned for a moment to check on Charlie and saw why Spot had stopped holding him.

Charlie was leaning down across the seat of the wagon, holding a pistol aimed squarely at Spot. “Good. Now don’t move.” Charlie looked at Jack and nodded. “Get lost before anyone sees you.”

“Hey! What’s going on over there!” came a voice. All three turned to see a man coming out of the barn, walking quickly towards them. “Who is that?” 

Jack took off running across the field, flying toward the patch of woods as fast as he had ever gone. Charlie looked at Spot. “He ain’t done nothing wrong. But you better look like you tried to catch him. If you do catch him, I’ll come back and shoot you myself.”

Spot started running, but even if he had run as fast as he could, he couldn’t have caught up to Jack. He stopped and looked back at the man who had shouted at them. “It’s Kelly, Mr. Delancey. I’d bet anything.” He dove to the ground, startled, as he saw Oscar Delancey raise his gun and aim it across the field.

“We got a runner!” shouted Oscar, bringing more men out to see what the commotion was all about.

The first shot missed Jack as he ducked at the sound of the shot. He zig zagged, hoping to make himself a harder target. A second shot rang through the morning air. He felt a bullet tear into his calf. He was almost there, but suddenly his leg had no feeling. He spun around trying to catch his balance, dragging his leg. He put his hands on his leg to help it along, stumbling in the looseness of the newly plowed field. He fell and began dragging himself toward the woods on his hands and one leg.

By this time Oscar had nearly caught up with him, with other men close behind. Jack kept moving until he heard the click of a hammer being drawn back. “Stop, Kelly. Stop right there.”

Jack stopped, but didn’t look up. He felt himself get pulled up, and he glared at Delancey as he was unceremoniously hauled back to the barn. He could feel his leg bleeding, his pant leg getting soaked as his leg burned with pain. Dumped on the ground in front of Spot, Jack started to pull himself up on the wagon before being pushed down again.

“You ain’t going nowhere,” snarled Oscar. “You move again and you’ll get a matching bullet in your other leg.” Jack lay still, breathing hard, his head down.

“You Kelly?” asked Oscar. Jack was silent. Oscar kicked him on his wounded leg. Jack smothered a yell, grabbing at his leg. “I said, you Kelly?” Jack nodded.

“Where was he?” demanded Oscar, looking at Spot.

“I dunno, boss,” said Spot. “In the barn, I guess. He just come outta nowhere and tried to get in Charlie’s wagon here, so I pulled him down. Then he started to run.”

“You in the barn? You know this is Pulitzer’s barn?” Oscar asked Jack, a grin creeping across his face. “Yeah, that Pulitzer. You really are a stupid fuck, ain’t ya.” Jack didn’t respond. “I said, ain’t ya?” He grabbed Jack’s hair, pulling his head back and punching Jack across the face. Jack stayed down, tasting blood. His leg throbbed as blood poured out of it.

“Can I wrap his leg, boss?” asked Spot. “He’s gonna bleed to death before Mr. Pulitzer gets to see him.” Oscar shrugged. Spot looked around for something to use. Seeing nothing, he pulled off his shirt and then his undershirt to use as a bandage. Jack groaned at the pressure, but it did help. Once Spot was satisfied the bleeding was starting to stop, he got his shirt back on, shooting Charlie a confused look.

Oscar followed his look and finally turned to Charlie. “You okay, Charlie? Where did you see Kelly come from?”

Charlie gave Oscar a scared look. “I dunno, Mr. Delancey. I had twenty chickens once. Then one died. I gotta lot of eggs to sell. I can’t be late. Thanks for saving me, Spotty. You’re a good friend.” 

Oscar turned back to Jack and motioned for two men to bring him up to the wagon. Jack let himself be dragged up and he looked up at Charlie, his mouth bleeding, his face drained.

Oscar got close to Jack. “You tried to steal this kid’s wagon, hm? That’s not nice, Kelly. He’s got a bum leg, asshole. He sells these eggs to support his grandpa, you know that? You’re gonna pay the price for that now, too, you stupid shit.” He punched Jack in the gut and Jack slumped forward, gasping.

“Mr. Delancey, I gotta go,” said Charlie. “I got deliveries, and then I gotta get back to my chickens. They get lonely.” Oscar waved him off. Charlie turned the wagon around and vanished down the drive.

Spot watched Charlie rush back down the lane for a minute or so, wondering just how many of those eggs were going to get their customers in one piece. He looked back at Jack, now tied to a hitching post, his arms awkwardly tied above his head as he sat on the ground. Jack’s eyes were closed as he bit his bleeding lip. Spot checked on his undershirt tied around Jack’s leg. It was still bleeding, but it had slowed. This kid needed a doctor. 

“Boss, you gonna ask Mr. Pulitzer to call the doc?” called Spot. 

Oscar gave Spot a dirty look. “We’ll do what Mr. Pulitzer wants. I didn’t want to interrupt his breakfast. Once he’s done I’ll go ask if I can talk to him.”

Spot shook his head. “Please, boss. He’s hurt.”

Oscar came up to him, looking at Spot quizzically. “He’s an escaped convict from Sing Sing. What the fuck do you care? You don’t got a lot of time left on your contract, Conlon. Or do you want Mr. Pulitzer to take another look at it?”

Spot looked away. “No, boss. That won’t be necessary.”

“Then shut the fuck up.”

Spot nodded and walked back over to Jack, looking around to make sure the other fellas had gone back to their work. He squatted down in front of him and asked quietly, “You hid at Charlie’s, then?”

Jack’s eyes opened a slit. He licked the blood off of his lips. “What the fuck would I hide out with a dumb crip like that for?”

“He said you ain’t done nothing wrong. How would he know that? He said he’d shoot me himself if I actually caught you.”

Jack smiled. “He’s a little stupid, yeah? So don’t believe everything you hear.” 

Spot watched Jack some more. Jack had definitely come out of that wagon, he knew that much. He hadn’t counted on Oscar having his gun on him already. That had scared the bejeezers out of Spot, for sure. Not likely Jack hid in the wagon without Charlie knowing, though, given Charlie’s comments. And since when did simple Charlie put a gun in someone’s face and make threats like that? Spot had always liked Charlie, but now he wondered how much he really knew him. Still and all, Spot had his doubts about sending a kid to Sing Sing, and if Charlie had helped him, Jack must be okay at least a little. Jack’s eyes had closed again, his breathing labored, his forehead now sweating in the cold morning air.

“Conlon! Back to work!” Oscar shouted.

Spot got up slowly, eyes still on Jack. “Yes, boss,” he said.

Jack felt a shadow fall across his face as he tried to control his breathing. He opened his eyes, blearily looking up.

Pulitzer stood there, hands on his hips, staring down at him, Oscar by his side, a young lady behind him. “Jack Kelly, as I live and breathe. The boy who can’t stay out of trouble. You actually thought you should hide on my summer estate?”

“I didn’t know,” said Jack hoarsely. He wondered how soon he’d be back at Sing Sing. How would he work with this leg? 

“Papa, his leg,” said the young lady. Jack knew Pulitzer had a daughter, so he guessed that’s who this was. “It will get infected, with him in the dirt like this.”

Pulitzer gave his daughter an impatient look. “Katherine, your safety is more important than that right now. As soon as we can get him to the jail, someone there will see if it’s serious. Go back inside, please. This is no scene for a young lady.” Jack tried to push himself up to sit up a little straighter, which didn’t work very well. His blood had made some of the dirt muddy, and his one pant leg was now caked in it.

“Funny how young Charlie was here when you decided to spend the night in my barn,” mused Pulitzer. “How did you know he’d be here this morning for you to take his wagon?”

Jack glared silently at Pulitzer. 

“And why was he driving that old wreck of a wagon, anyway? If I didn’t know better,” Pulitzer continued, “I’d wonder if you knew Charlie somehow. Made an arrangement of some kind for him to find you here and take you in his wagon. Or maybe he had already found you? Intriguing questions, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps we can find a way to get some answers.”

Jack kept his mouth shut, but looked away.

“I’ve touched a nerve, I see,” said Pulitzer. “Well, now that I know you targeted not only my business last year, an ambitious plan, by the way, I can see now that you had designs on somehow targeting this estate. The judge will be very interested in all this, I’m sure. See you in court, Mr. Kelly.” 

Pulitzer walked away. “Come back to the table, Katherine.” He strode back into the house. Jack didn’t like Katherine staring at him like that. Not exactly how he liked to meet girls. But then, he wouldn’t be meeting any at Sing Sing either. Just forget the girl, he told himself. You are too fucked to worry about girls, Kelly.

Katherine drew out her handkerchief from her sleeve and went to wet it at the pump. She came back and knelt by Jack, and wiped the blood from his chin.

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I’m sorry you’re going back prison,” she continued. “I thought the strike was a good idea.” She got up and walked back into the house, feeling Jack’s stare of disbelief bore into her back.


	9. Halls of Justice

Charlie sat next to Ben as they anxiously waited in the packed courtroom. It wasn’t every day an escaped convict was found in their little town, after all, and it wasn’t every day that you got to actually see one. Charlie squeezed Ben’s hand, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

Ben hadn’t come in for lunch or dinner the day before, after Charlie had rushed in with the news, shouting and upset. Later on, Charlie had filled a pail and brought him his meals in the barn, but Ben didn’t touch them as he worked on the broken wheel. He didn’t speak a word until the next day when he announced to Charlie that they were going to town for Jack’s appearance before the judge.

The door to the jail behind the courtroom creaked open and Jack shuffled out in ankle cuffs, escorted by two deputies. Charlie gasped as a murmur ran through the crowd. Jack was barely recognizable, his face swollen and bruised with cuts on his cheek and forehead. His shirt hung completely open, revealing a mass of bruising. He limped in his still muddy pants, the one leg still torn, revealing Spot’s bloody undershirt still wrapped around his wound.

“Grandpa, he didn’t look like that yesterday,” Charlie whispered. Ben squeezed Charlie’s hand back in a signal to stay quiet.

Jack was placed standing in front of the judge, his hands cuffed behind his back. 

The judge looked at Jack. “Take a fall down the stairs, Kelly?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jack mumbled.

“Speak up, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said more loudly.

“You are an escaped convict, due to finish your sentence in addition to the time added for your escape. I see no reason to debate any of this.”

“Your honor, if I may,” said Pulitzer, rising from the front row. Heads around the room craned to see him stand and approach the judge. “This boy is still a juvenile, and as we can see perhaps he needs another direction than prison.” Pulitzer came closer to the judge and spoke in a low voice that Charlie couldn’t hear.

Jack looked from one to the other. “You two know each other. Ain’t that nice,” he said loudly.

The judge looked over at Jack. “That’s enough from you, Kelly, unless you want another visit from your old friends.” Jack closed his mouth. Pulitzer shook hands with the judge and took his seat.

“In light of your status as a juvenile, and the hope that you might still be rehabilitated, Mr. Pulitzer here has kindly offered to take you on as an apprentice at his summer estate for a term of five years, during which you will learn a trade. Any breach of the agreement or dissatisfaction on the part of Mr. Pulitzer will land you back in Sing Sing. You will be in his complete care during this time. Do you understand, Kelly?”

Jack stared at the judge. “I got one year and three months left at Sing Sing. You’re giving me five years with Pulitzer?” he asked in disbelief.

“Would you rather go back to prison?” the judge asked.

Jack swallowed. “No, sir.”

“You should be more grateful, Kelly. Mr. Pulitzer is rescuing you, you know. You start tomorrow.”

Jack nodded dumbly. Charlie looked up at Ben to see what he thought. Ben had a mixed look on his face as he watched Jack be escorted back to his cell.

“I’ll be back late,” said Ben to Charlie. “Lock up good tonight.”

Charlie nodded from the sink. “Tell him I’ll see him soon.”

Ben rode into town and stopped at the jail. Whatever Jack said would be right, he thought sadly. How could he have been so stupid, not checking everything on the wagon, Ben berated himself. He sighed as he unhooked the pail and the bag from his horse and went in.

“Arnold,” said Ben.

“Ben,” said Arnold.

“It’s been a while since they had an overnighter in here, isn’t it,” Ben commented. “They got you on duty, huh.”

Arnold looked at Ben’s pail and bag. “As much as a volunteer can be, I guess. What’re you doing here, Ben?”

“I want to see Kelly,” said Ben. “I saw him in court today and it looked like he could use a little patching up.”

“Can’t do it,” said Arnold. “Pulitzer’s orders.”

Ben looked at Arnold. “If it was Charlie back there, would you say that? Come on, Arnold. Lemme give the kid a sandwich and a bandage or two. I’ll bring you dinner all next week.”

Arnold sighed. “Fine. But if anyone comes in while you’re back there, I’m gonna say you said you harbored him and probably belong in jail yourself.”

Ben smiled. “Okay. Want to check my bag?”

Arnold waved him through. “Never mind. Just give the kid a sandwich and get out of here.”

Ben went down the hall, back to Jack’s cell. “Jack? I brought you some food and things.” He saw Jack sitting on the pile of hay by one wall, leaning forward, arms hanging over his bent knees. 

Jack stared at the opposite wall. “Fuck you,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I should have checked it all out, and I didn’t. I’m so sorry. You probably had a better chance with your plan. I’ll think of something. But do you want a sandwich? Charlie made you a big dinner. Have you had anything since you left yesterday?”

Jack stayed put. “I ain’t hungry.”

“The hell you ain’t. I brought some buttons and thread, too. I’ll show you how to sew on a button and I can fix your shirt,” said Ben. “I got fresh bandages, too. Lemme clean you up.”

Jack eyed him cautiously. “What’d Charlie make?” Ben grinned and opened up the pail. He handed Jack the food through the bars about as quickly as Jack ate.

Jack wiped his mouth and grinned back at Ben. “Maybe Charlie can bring me stuff at Pulitzer’s.”

“Count on it,” said Ben. “Now give me your shirt and I’ll show you how to do a button.”

“I can’t see too good,” said Jack. “Them Sing Sing fellas got hold of me last night in here.” He eased off the shirt.

Ben reached for it through the bars, stopping when Jack turned his back a little. His eyes met Jack’s. “I’ll just fix it myself, Jack. I’ll show you how later. Gimme a minute.” Ben reached into his bag and drew out his needle, thread, and some buttons. Jack sat by the bars and watched as Ben worked as quickly as he could.

Snapping off the last thread, he handed the shirt back to Jack. “Lemme start with your back, son,” he said. Jack turned his back to Ben and wheezed as Ben cleaned the fresh whip marks. Not as bad as before, but Ben still lost count of the marks as he worked his way down Jack’s back. “Okay, Jack, all done. Let’s see your leg.” Jack turned himself around so Ben could reach in.

Ben saw the tears as he pried the undershirt off of Jack’s leg. “Spot did good, Jack. He did the best he could. But this is gonna hurt. Grab the bars.” Ben brought out the bottle of whiskey from his bag and poured it on the wound. Jack strained as he looked up, tears starting to fall. Ben patted the wound dry and put a clean bandage on it. “At least there ain’t no bullet in your leg. Passed right through.”

Ben waited as Jack caught his breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Shit, Ben. First you fuck me with the wagon and now this. Fuck you.” 

Ben packed up his pail and bag, but stayed sitting on the hall floor near Jack, grateful Jack had let him help.

“Charlie broke all of his eggs coming home yesterday,” said Ben. “It was a hell of a mess.”

Jack snorted. “I bet. Hey, does Charlie really know how to use that gun?” 

Ben looked at Jack in surprise. “Of course. He’s an excellent shot.”

“Just asking. I didn’t even know he had one.”

“He’s always got one when he’s out delivering. Most folks around here won’t give him any trouble. He’s just simple Charlie to them, like a pet. That’s how we like it. But you never know when you might run into someone who wants to have a little fun with a cripple. I taught him how to shoot from the time he was strong enough to hold a gun.” Ben smiled at Jack. “Good thing Spotty backed off, huh.”

“Would he really have shot him?” Jack asked.

Ben shrugged. “Probably not. But he might have aimed close enough to scare the shit out of him. Same difference.” 

“Ben,” said Jack, “I didn’t mean it the other night, about Charlie.”

“I know.” Ben stretched and pulled himself up. “Jack, I am sure sorry about what happened. I’m glad you ain’t going back to Sing Sing, though. You need anything, you can probably find a way to get word to us. We’ll figure it out.”

He held out his hand to Jack. Jack stayed down but reached up to shake Ben’s hand. Ben picked up his things and headed out down the hallway to Arnold’s desk.

“Helluva big sandwich, Ben,” said Arnold.

“You’re a good man, Arnold. Have a good night,” said Ben.


	10. Hopes and Expectations

“Kelly, get up,” said Arnold, coming down the hall. Jack looked up and wanted to cooperate, but his stiff body didn’t allow him to move.

“I’m coming. Gimme a moment, okay?” He moved slowly, trying not to grunt, as he pulled himself up on the bars as Arnold watched. He turned around and put his hands behind his back for the handcuffs. Arnold snapped them on and unlocked the cell. “Can we walk a little slow, please?” Arnold obliged as Jack tried to give him a small smile of gratitude, his bruised face still making any expression muted.

The ride out to Pulitzer’s was painful, but not as bad as Charlie’s wagon. Arnold pulled around to the back and held Jack’s arm as he got out of the wagon. “You gotta come in with me,” Arnold said.

Jack didn’t resist as they entered the back of the house. He stood quietly as the maid went to notify Pulitzer that they had arrived. He’d seen big houses in the city, of course, but had never been inside one. It was a lot like Pulitzer’s office, he thought, but with more furniture. And he could see a little bit into what must be the dining room. Jack became acutely aware of his muddy clothes, but grateful for Ben’s work on the buttons of his shirt, for sure.

Quick footsteps came down the staircase, and Jack looked up to see Katherine. She put her hand to her mouth, then dropped it. “Jack? I heard you’ll be working for us now. What happened to you?”

Jack glanced nervously at her. “Nothing,” he said. “I mean, I got shot, but nothing.”

She looked back at him skeptically. “Well, Oscar better be kind to you until you’re feeling better.” She came closer and put her hand on his arm.

Jack wasn’t really sure what to say to that. He nodded awkwardly, wondering what Pulitzer would say if he saw her touching him. “Thank you.”

Pulitzer appeared in the doorway to the dining room and cleared his throat. “Katherine, Jack and I have some business to tend to before he starts work. Will you excuse us?” He turned to Arnold. “Uncuff him, please, Arnold. I think we’ll be fine. If you go to the kitchen I’m sure they can supply you with something good.” 

Once they were alone, Jack stood still as Pulitzer approached. Pulitzer leaned into Jack’s ear. “You’re mine now, Kelly. Sending you to Sing Sing made me realize that I didn’t see you pay. I’ll see you pay now, I can assure you. Any trouble from you, any attempt to run, and your little friend Charlie and his grandpa will get an unwelcome visit. You think I can’t put two and two together? You think I didn’t have someone watching to see who came to visit you? Do you understand what I am saying?”

Jack set his jaw. “Yes, sir.” 

Pulitzer smiled and clapped Jack on the back. Jack grimaced and let out a small “mmm,” but caught himself before saying anything.

Jack limped outside behind Pulitzer where Oscar was waiting. Oscar grabbed Jack by the arm and led him down to the barn, yanking him when Jack didn’t keep up. He led him to the pile of wood and pointed. “Get to work,” he said, and left.

The ax was resting near the pile. Jack went over it and and lifted it, guessing it wouldn’t feel much different than a sledgehammer. But he couldn’t swing it well without both legs working, he knew that. He could barely move after his beating the other night. He looked around, but anyone he could see was out in the fields already. How would Charlie do this? He found a piece of a stump and managed to tip it on its side and roll it over toward the chopping block. He rested the knee of his wounded leg on it and tried a practice swing. Maybe... He tried chopping, nearly crying as his back and bruises objected. How much did Oscar want, he wondered. Don’t think, Kelly. No one asked you to think. He kept trying. He glanced up at the house, seeing Pulitzer standing in a second story window, holding a curtain aside, watching him. Jack looked away quickly and got back to work.

He tried to loosen up, but sweat burned his back and his bruises felt like someone was punching him all over again. The pile of chopped wood still tiny. He paused for a moment, knowing it wasn’t enough.

“Ain’t no break times here, Kelly,” said Oscar, appearing in the barn door. “Maybe your little union thought you should have tea and cake every six minutes, but we work around here.” He came over and pointed at Jack’s little pile of wood. “You want to go back to Sing Sing tonight?”

Jack wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “No, boss.” He lifted the ax again.

By the end of the day, Jack was working so slowly he knew he’d be back in prison by tomorrow. He couldn’t think anymore. His entire body ached more than he knew it ever could. His ax wobbled and bounced off the wood. He finally stopped, not caring anymore who saw him, and sat on the stump, his head down as he tried not to cry from the pain. 

Oscar appeared again. “No one said you could stop, Kelly. That ain’t near enough.”

Jack looked at him dully.

“No rations for you tonight,” said Oscar, walking away. “And report to the house. Mr. Pulitzer wants to see you.”

Jack still sat, watching Oscar go, watching the lights go on in the Pulitzer house as it began to get dark. Slowly he stood and limped to the back entrance. He knocked, and a maid let him in. He stood, waiting. He was so thirsty. Oscar had let him take a water break at midday, but it hadn’t lasted him long. He licked his lips.

Pulitzer finally came down the steps and paused to look Jack up and down. Jack kept his eyes up and focused on the wall behind Pulitzer. 

“We don’t have enough wood for our bedroom stoves tonight and tomorrow, Jack. It’s still chilly these days, you know.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jack.

“I’m unhappy with you, and it’s only your first day.”

Jack could already feel the shock of slamming his sledgehammer down. “Yes, sir,” he repeated.

“What should happen, Jack? You tell me.” Pulitzer came in close.

Jack tried to keep his balance on one leg, the foot of his wounded leg just barely touching the floor. He tried to focus his eyes on Pulitzer, but couldn’t. He wiped at the sweat on his face. “I dunno, boss. Sir.”

Pulitzer slapped him, reopening Jack’s split lip. “You answer my questions, boy.”

Jack brought his face back up, licking at the blood on his lip, his face pounding where Pulitzer had hit his bruises. “Yes, sir. You could do anything you want, sir.” He prayed for anything but another beating. He wasn’t sure he’d survive if it came to that.

“I should have you whipped,” said Pulitzer. “What do you think of that?”

Jack pressed his lips together, blinking back tears. “Please...” he whispered. “Please don’t. Sir. I’ll do anything.” He lost his balance a little on his foot, and swayed a bit trying to stay standing.

Pulitzer smiled. “I’m not about to kill you on your first day. But you will not receive any rations or a bunk until you have finished your work.”

Jack nodded. He’d survive, then.

Jack sat on the wide steps leading into the bunkhouse, leaning against the wall, glad he was maybe seeing the first signs of dawn. He saw a figure approach from the house, not fully understanding who it was until she was close. He stood, hunched, keeping his arms crossed in front of him, preserving whatever warmth he had.

“I brought you something,” she said. “I saw Oscar didn’t let you come to lunch or dinner yesterday.” She handed him a ham sandwich and two apples. He stared at her. “Well, aren’t you going to eat it?” Jack didn’t waste any more time, taking huge bites, watching Katherine as he ate.

“Thanks,” he said, after swallowing the last bit. “Why you doing this for me?”

“Because you’re brave,” she said. “And I thought the strike was a good idea, like I said. Papa should have helped newsies like you.”

“You followed the strike? For real?” Did she really just say he was brave? he wondered.

“Of course. I asked him to help you, but he didn’t listen, as usual. I just thought you were all so courageous, going up against him like that.”

“Courageous,” Jack snorted. “Only cuz we had to eat.” 

“Even so,” she said, wiping a crumb from his face. He flinched and put his hand on hers to move it away from his bruises. She held his hand and smiled at him. 

The bunkhouse door creaked open and Spot came out to dump a bucket of dishwater. He glanced at Jack and Katherine as Jack took a step back, looking down. “Gotta get breakfast ready for everyone,” he said. He looked at Katherine. “Thanks.”

“I should go,” said Katherine. Spot nodded and she slipped away back toward the house.

Jack looked at her retreating figure, smiling.

“You know she’s engaged, right?” asked Spot.

Jack frowned, then looked up at Spot. “That ain’t never stopped me before,” he said, grinning.

Spot rolled his eyes. “Get to work, asshole,” he said.


	11. Rainy Days

Charlie pulled up in his wagon with his egg delivery, looking for Jack. Sometimes he saw him, sometimes not, depending on where they had him working. He smiled as he saw Jack come striding over, his limp still noticeable. Charlie’s smile faded as he saw that Jack’s face had fresh bruises again, and his eyes were still ringed with dark circles. His pants hadn’t been mended yet, either.

“Hey, Charlie! Lemme get the crate out for you,” Jack called. He winced as he reached into the back of the wagon for the crate.

“How you doing, Jack,” asked Charlie, turning around in his seat.

Jack set the crate down out of the way and came over to Charlie. He set last week’s empty crate into the back of the wagon. “I’m fine,” he said. 

“Make sure you’re the one who unpacks the crate, okay? All of it?” Charlie gave Jack a meaningful look.

“I’ll try,” said Jack. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching him. “What’d you bring me to eat?”

“All kinds of stuff. And I got you some new laces, too,” said Charlie. Jack grinned, his sunken eyes lighting up a little. “They treating you good this week?” Charlie asked hopefully.

Jack’s smile froze. “Sure.”

“Did they let you keep the blanket I brung you?”

Jack looked down before glancing at the house and seeing Pulitzer in the window. “Lemme get your money, Charlie. I’ll be right back.” Jack headed for the kitchen in a hurry. Coming back, his shirt flapped open and Charlie clenched the reins at the sight of bruises littering his gut and chest. Not again.

“You take care, Jack,” he said. Jack nodded and turned back to the crate without speaking. Charlie clucked at his horse and left, wishing he could think of something more to do. Why didn’t Jack run, he wondered. He escaped Sing Sing. Surely it would be easy for him to run away from here?

Jack grabbed the crate and swiftly took it to the kitchen door, kneeling down on the porch to move the fresh eggs from the crate to the kitchen basket. Reaching down to the bottom of the crate, he found Charlie’s baked potato and fried chicken, taking both out in his hands. He jammed in them in his mouth as fast as he could, throwing the chicken bones under the porch. He shoved the new boot laces in his pocket and raced back to the barn, met by Oscar. 

“I took care of Charlie’s eggs,” said Jack, out of breath. “I got them to the kitchen already.”

Oscar looked at Jack suspiciously. “I’m reporting this, Kelly,” he said. “You didn’t ask to leave your work. We’ll see what Mr. Pulitzer wants to do.”

Jack looked at him innocently. “Reporting what? You ain’t got nothing to report.” He strolled back to the stalls he had been cleaning out, grinning to himself.

The next morning Jack lay in his bunk in the dark, listening to the sound of the rain pounding on the bunkhouse roof a few inches above his head. He’d always liked being in bed when it was raining, even if he had to go out in it later. Him and Race, trying to finish fast on those days. They’d even tried going door to door, peeking in at dry families, their stoves blazing. Race said his folks used to have one of them.

_I’ll go to this one. You go next door. Jack knocked on the door, turning on the smile when a little girl opened the door. She turned inside and shouted, “Mama! Beggar at the door!” Jack cringed. He kept the smile on, glad he had when the girl’s mother said he could come in while she went to find her purse. He stepped into the warmth, taking off his soaked cap and closing his eyes for a moment. His boots began to make puddles on their mat as they drained through the holes in the soles. He opened his eyes to find two other kids watching him, one a boy a little older, and another girl, probably about his age. He gave them a half smile, trying not to be jealous that they were wearing stockings on their smooth wood floors, with carpets in the other room. He felt his short pants dripping down his bare legs onto their floor. He shifted his weight as he heard their mother come back, getting ready to hold out his hand for the penny. “I ain’t a beggar,” he said raspily. The older boy started to laugh. Jack handed the woman her pape and took her penny as a surge of anger came up his throat. Jack jutted out his chin, turned to the side table by the door, and grabbed the candlesticks on it, the candles cracking and falling to the floor. He ran down the steps as fast as he could as he heard them shouting after him. “Run, Race!” Jack had shouted. Race met him at the bottom step and they both took off, laughing and running through the rain. They pawned the candlesticks and ate good at Jacobi’s that night, laughing and laughing some more._

Jack smiled at the memory and pulled his arms closer around himself, missing Race’s company, and his warmth. Him and Race. He hoped Race was out of the Refuge one way or the other by now. Stupid strike. What had it got him but prison and now this. He thought back to the kids in that warm house, wondering what became of them. They ain’t no convicts, that’s for sure. No, that was for guys like him. Somebody’s gotta work in the quarry. Somebody’s gotta work for the rich folks like a fucking animal. Somehow it had been easier to be that somebody with Race. 

He heard Spot start to rattle around in the bunkhouse corner that served as the kitchen. It would be an easy day. Maybe some chores, but not a lot to do on a day like this. Tell some lies to the other fellas, maybe, about the city. The door banged open and Oscar came in, his coat and wide brimmed hat dripping. He banged on Jack’s bunk.

“Kelly!” he shouted. “You’re late!”

Jack craned his neck around. “It’s pouring out, boss.”

Oscar grabbed Jack’s arm, pulling him onto the floor from the upper bunk. He stood over him and kicked Jack’s leg. “What, you know better than me, now? Don’t fuck with me, Kelly. You’re working. Pulitzer said so.”

Jack picked himself up off the floor, angry. Angry he was the only one, angry that everyone was watching him like those fucking kids. What had he ever done? He rolled his shoulder, trying not to think of those stupid kids, probably sleeping right now, their mama worried if they were gonna get a sniffle. Fuck them.

“Hey, Oscar, let the kid have something to eat,” said Spot, grabbing a plate and trying to get some food on it. 

“He don’t need it,” said Oscar, grabbing Jack again and shoving him out the door. Jack stumbled down the steps and fell into the mud, somehow hoping Race would be there, but of course he wasn’t. 

Jack got up and wiped the rain from his face as he limped after Oscar, his boots getting sucked down with every step. He couldn’t be going out into the fields today, he thought. Oscar led him into the barn, pointed at the ax that Jack dreaded, and pointed outside. “Get to work.”

Jack stared at him. “They got plenty from yesterday, boss.”

Oscar shrugged. “Pulitzer’s orders. It’s cold and he wants fires today. He said if you don’t like it maybe you wanna break stone. You know what you got coming if you don’t do what he says.”

Jack did know. Didn’t plow enough, he knew. Didn’t go fast enough, he knew. Didn’t break enough rocks, he knew. Didn’t jump high enough for Snyder, he knew. Breathed wrong, he knew. Jack’s mouth trembled with anger. His whole life wasn’t enough. Didn’t sell enough, no lodging house for him and Race. Jack could feel his cheeks get hot as water dripped down his face. 

“What you looking at, Kelly? You want a beating before you even start? Pulitzer said he heard you weren’t so tough after all, from what he heard from Sing Sing,” Oscar smirked.

Jack stepped toward Oscar, tilting his head. What the fuck did he know about that place. 

“He heard you cried like a baby there. Couldn’t keep up. What, did you want your mama, Kelly? Need someone to hold your hand?” Oscar came closer to Jack, still grinning. Jack clenched his fists. “You miss your mama? What’s she think of her little bastard in prison, hm? Or is that where she found your bastard father?”

Jack stepped inches from Oscar’s face, breathing hard. 

“Do it, Kelly,” whispered Oscar. “You know you want to. Do it. Ain’t no one here but you and me.”

Jack grabbed Oscar’s shirt and pulled him in close. “You don’t talk about my mama,” he said through gritted teeth. Jack’s memory flashed of the day he’d told Race about his mama, and how Race hadn’t laughed when Jack cried. Race had wiped Jack’s face and bought him a doughnut, telling him stories about the time he went to the circus, and Jack had stopped crying eventually.

Oscar turned his face and looked at the ax. “You gonna work, Kelly? Or should I beat the shit out of you for threatening me?”

Jack paused, then let Oscar go. He grabbed the ax and went out to the woodpile, seeing Pulitzer in his window, watching him again. Jack set his first piece and began to work. He slammed the ax into the wood, ignoring his bruises. Again and again, he smashed the ax down, barely noticing the rain after a while. They wanted an animal, they got one. What did it matter. He’d let Race down, so who cared. Jack chopped and stacked, his ax rising and falling as he cried, trying to disguise his sobs with his grunts.

“Enough,” said Oscar in the fading light. Jack stopped to make sure he’d heard right. “Pulitzer said enough.” Jack felt his body expect to keep going, but also found he could barely move. He stood still for a moment, feeling the rain run through his hair and over his hands.

“Yes, boss,” he finally said. He limped towards Oscar to put the ax back in the barn. He put it up and leaned over his knees before sitting down on a box. He shook his head and put his elbows on his knees, breathing hard as he began to rest at last.

“You tired?” Oscar asked. Jack didn’t answer, not sure if Oscar was serious. He kept his head down but gave a little nod just in case. He was tired, sure. Mostly he was hungry, though. What he wouldn’t give for, well, anything.

“Little Jacky needs a nap? You need your mama?” Oscar grinned again as Jack looked up in disbelief. “I heard she banged anything that moved. Is that right, Jacky? Woulda liked to have tried her myself. Bet she was good.”

Jack’s vision went dark as he launched himself up and punched Oscar in the face. He took Oscar by the shirt and didn’t let go as he kept punching him. He was yelling something, and Spot was there, pulling him off of Oscar. Pulitzer was giving orders, and Jack felt his shirt being ripped away as he was tied to a post, his arms up and chained on the other side.

Jack kept yelling until the first blow. “Fuck!” he yelled. He felt the blood start to run down his back and pushed his forehead against the post. 

He felt someone standing near him, who spoke into his ear. “You will be silent.”

Jack turned his head as much as he could toward Pulitzer. “Fuck you.” Pulitzer moved away from him, and the blows started. He pulled and strained, throwing his head back and gritting his teeth as the whipping continued. What difference did it make, here or Sing Sing. Make it stop, he prayed, his arms giving out, his legs following. He jerked with each hit, long since having lost count. At last it stopped, and he hung there, feeling the chains dig into his wrists. He felt Pulitzer come up to him again and turn Jack’s face towards his.

Jack gasped for air as Pulitzer looked at him. “I won before and I’ll win again, Kelly. I’ll always win.” Pulitzer turned to Oscar, who was hanging up the whip. “He stays here till morning.”

“Yes, Mr. Pulitzer,” said Oscar.

Pulitzer left the barn and Oscar headed toward the bunkhouse. Spot stayed behind, pretending to be busy. Once they were gone, Spot went to Jack, giving him a drink of water, holding the cup for him as he gulped it down.

“I’ll stay here with you, Jack,” said Spot. “You’re a stupid sonofabitch, ain’t ya, letting Oscar under your skin like that. Now look what happened.”

Jack put his forehead against the post again and closed his eyes. He listened to the rain hammer down on the roof of the barn, and thought about Race. 


	12. Katherine

Spot eased Jack to the floor as Jack was released from the post. "What are you all looking at," Spot growled at the other guys standing around watching. "Ain't nothing to see here."

As they silently dispersed, Spot got Jack's arm around his neck and hung on to his wrist. "Let's go, Jacky. Up we go." Jack moaned as Spot forced him to his feet, and somehow slowly moved with Spot back to the bunkhouse. "You're in my bunk, kid," he said, taking Jack's arm from around his neck and getting Jack down again. Jack lay on his stomach, sweating from exertion. His eyes drooped.

Spot made sure he was settled and went to the stove to get him a bowl of oatmeal. "No sleeping yet, Jack," he said. "Have some of this." Spot started spooning some of it into Jack's mouth. Once Jack had a taste, he went to grab the spoon to shovel in more, but Spot held it out of reach. "Not so fast. It ain't good to do that. Lemme do it." Spot went to give Jack another bite, but jumped at the sound of a knock on the door. He handed the spoon to Jack and went to answer it, shocked to see Katherine there.

"Let me in," she ordered. Spot stood aside, and Katherine came in, removing her hood as she took in the sight of Jack. She turned to Spot. "What do we do now?" 

Spot tightened his jaw. "You don't need to do nothing, miss. I done this plenty," he said. He sighed as he saw that Jack had already finished the bowl on his own. "What can I do for you, miss?"

"I want to help you," she said.

Spot just looked at her. "You ain't helped before," he said, knowing he could end up like Jack if she took offense. All in, Spotty. "Your father done this a lot, you know." He wished she would leave so he could tend to Jack. What was it with rich people, swooping in at the worst times, thinking they were the center of attention all the time. Six months, he reminded himself. Six months and he was done. He looked back at Katherine, trying not to let his impatience show.

Katherine bit her lip. "I know. I'm sorry. This time, I guess, was different. I didn't know any of the men before, and now..." She pulled off her gloves. "Please just let me help. Tell me what to do."

Spot eyed her suspiciously. "You want me to give you orders," he said, questioningly. "You ain't gonna run to your father and complain?"

Katherine shook her head. "No."

"All right, then," he said. "Get another bowl of oatmeal for Jacky and I'm gonna go get some water. Don't let him do it. You gotta give it to him slow." He waited to see if she would do what he ordered, pleasantly surprised when she did. He left for the water, and came back in to see her sitting on the floor, the empty bowl next to her, as she brushed Jack's hair back from his forehead. He set the pail down and showed her how to clean Jack's back. She winced and nearly gagged, but kept at it.

He nodded approvingly. "I been up most of the night," he said. "Oscar lets me take a half day so he don't have to do this stuff. Mind if I get some sleep?" He pointed up at Jack's bunk. Katherine nodded, not taking her eyes off of Jack. Spot pulled himself up to Jack's bunk and rolled over, exhausted. He would not miss this work, that was for sure.

Jack awoke, the sun streaming in onto his face. The familiar pain shot through him as he tried to move, but his eyes widened as he saw Katherine sitting on the floor, resting her head on her arm on the bed. And he wasn't hungry, he noticed, surprised. Had he eaten something? Well, shit, if he was going to get beat like this, this is how he wanted to get better. 

Katherine opened her eyes and smiled to find Jack awake. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better than most times," he answered honestly. "I ain't hungry, I'm in a nice bed, and a pretty girl is sitting by me. What more do I want?" He tried to smile.

Katherine stroked his forehead. "I'm so sorry," she said.

“Where’s Spot?” Jack asked.

Katherine pointed at Jack’s bunk and put her finger over her lips. “Sleeping.”

“You gonna stay?”

Katherine nodded. Jack smiled a little. He wondered what in the world she was doing here, but wasn’t willing to ask too many questions. It wasn’t like she could make him hurt more. She didn’t slap him or yell at him, so he closed his eyes to rest a little more.

“Jack?” she asked quietly. He grunted. “You escaped from Sing Sing. Why don’t you run away from here?”

Jack was quiet for a while, wondering if he should pretend he hadn’t heard her. “Your dad said he’d hurt Charlie and Ben if I ran.” He kept his eyes closed, trying to think about anything but his back. Charlie and his chickens. Hiding in Ben’s cellar. Learning how to sew. Race. Race. Race. Was she running her fingers through his hair? That felt so nice. He turned his head a little more towards her and smiled.

“You’re going to be treated like this for five years because my father said that?” she asked, reaching for his hand.

“They saved my life,” he muttered. He rubbed her fingers. They were so soft and delicate, so different from anyone’s he’d ever known. Why was she letting him do this? He’d been bold with girls before, but this girl had brought him a sandwich and now he was rubbing her hand while he lay in bed without half his clothes? They must have knocked him around the head pretty good. All she’d have to do was say the word and Oscar would murder him without a second thought.

“Why’re you here,” he mumbled. “Spotty said you was gonna get married.” 

“Milton?” she huffed. “Papa thinks I’m going to marry him, but I’m not. He’d never speak to Papa the way I heard you did. He hasn’t any courage at all. He just agrees with Papa because he thinks that what clever men do. I like a man who can think independently.”

No courage required to get beat, he thought. Independent? He was nothing but an “apprentice” for five years. He liked talking with this girl, but it’s not like he met any of her qualifications. Well, fuck. He grunted again at Katherine. “You should run away, not me,” he said. “Go find someone else.”

She smiled. “I have.” 

Jack tried to nod. “‘K,” he said. He heard her laugh a little. What had he done now, he wondered. He dropped her hand, way too late, he thought. He felt her take his hand again and kiss his fingers. Jack’s eyes flew open. He watched her carefully as she kissed his hand, front and back, then each finger individually. If Oscar came in he was a dead man. Katherine came in close and kissed the tip of his nose. Jack almost wet himself. He reached up and put his hand on her cheek as gently as he could, and Katherine kissed him at the awkward angle required from his position on his stomach. He kissed her back, wondering how long he had been hallucinating and now had gone completely crazy. She was delicious. Had he died? The tenderness of her kiss set off an alarm long since silenced, one that used to tell him when he craved a hug or a gentle touch. When had he shut it off? He couldn’t remember. 

Katherine pulled away, smiling as he tried to keep kissing her. “You need to get some rest,” she said. 

“You should tell Milton to get lost. I’ll fight him. Later,” mumbled Jack. “Bet he don’t look as cute as me after getting beat.”

“Nowhere close,” said Katherine. “He sprained his ankle once and you’d have thought the Spanish Inquisition had turned him inside out.”

Jack smiled and reached for her face, stroking her cheek again. She kissed his palm, putting his hand back down on the bed. “Get some rest.” Jack closed his eyes, thinking he was having the most beautiful dream.


	13. Navigation

Jack heard Spot start to rustle around and swing down from Jack’s bunk. He opened his eyes, waiting for Spot to land. “Thanks, Spotty,” he said, “for fixing me up.”

Spot looked at Jack and shook his head. “You got a knack for trouble, kid,” he said. “I got knocked around plenty, still do, but I ain’t survived Sing Sing by your age or got beat as much as you by Oscar. How you feeling?”

Jack grimaced. “I feel like shit. But hey,” he said, brightening, “guess what. Katherine kissed me.” He tried a smile. “You get kissed by an heiress by my age?”

“Shaddup,” said Spot. “But listen, you wanna be careful. Guys like you ain’t supposed to wind up with girls like her. You know that. She’s being all nice now, but if you do something she don’t like, she can get you beat to hell all over again, got it?” Jack rolled his eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes, Jacky. I mean it. I don’t like patching guys up, so watch your step. And don’t let that Milton fella catch wind of nothing neither.”

“You met him?” asked Jack.

Spot paused and came to sit on the floor by Jack. “Yeah, I seen him. Rich, of course. Good looking. Follows Pulitzer around like a damn dog.”

“Katherine don’t like him,” said Jack.

“Yeah, well, it ain’t for me to say. But if any of this with you goes sideways, you can bet your ass that you’re the one that’s gonna pay, not him. And definitely not Katherine.” Spot rubbed his eyes. “I gotta report to Oscar. You good?”

Jack nodded a little. “Can I ask you something first?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You ever think about running?” Jack asked. 

Spot looked at Jack stonily. “Course. I done it once and got two years added to my ‘apprenticeship.’ I got the shit beat outta me so bad I couldn’t move for a week. Naw, I’m staying now. I got six months left, then I’m free. Why, you planning on running? I thought if you ran they said they’d go after Charlie and his grandpa.”

Jack bit his lip. “I ain’t planning on it. I don’t want them to get hurt. But fuck, Spotty, I dunno if I can make it.”

“You’ll make it. You’ll get beat to hell, but they ain’t gonna kill ya. They gotta get work outta you, don’t they? So...” Spot gave Jack a regretful smile. “Rich folks need poor guys like us, Jacky. Katherine might think you’re some kind of hero, but don’t forget that. You get beat like this again, maybe she’ll take care of you a little, but she ain’t gonna do nothing to keep you from getting beat, yeah?”

Spot pushed himself up. “I gotta go or I’ll be the next one in trouble. You rest while you can.” Jack nodded a little again, quiet.

Katherine leaned in the stall doorway, watching Jack work. “No one’s here, Jack. You can take a quick break and kiss me, you know.” She batted her eyes at Jack as he looked up and smiled. What he wouldn’t give to throw down his shovel and wrap her up. He could hardly believe she was spending time with him. But what if Spotty was right, he wondered, looking back down and shoveling up another pile of manure. He tossed it in the wheelbarrow and went after another pile. Maybe Spot was just jealous. 

“Just a minute,” he said. “Lemme finish this stall.” His back stung and ached, but he’d done enough lying around, Oscar said. At least Jack had been able to kind of fix his shirt with Spot’s needle and thread. He wondered when he’d see Ben again so he could thank him.

Katherine waited for him, catching him by his shirt as he came by with the wheelbarrow on his way to the next stall. “Hey,” she said quietly, pulling him in. She kissed him, Jack breathing in her clean smell, enjoying her softness. Jack pulled away. He could kiss her all night. But what was she doing here? He felt a little strange with her watching him work like this.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. She raised her eyebrows. “I guess. I mean, what if someone comes in? When’s Mr. Pulitzer coming back with Milton?”

Katherine sighed. “Not for a day or two. And you said you’d fight him, anyway, right?” she smiled. “And besides, when Oscar makes you do the stalls on your own it means we get more time together.” She smiled up at him. Jack didn‘t smile back. “Don’t you like me?”

“Sure,” said Jack. “I like you a lot. But...” He stopped. Was he so stupid to say no to a girl who wanted to kiss him? Evidently stupid enough to consider it. He loved being loved, though. He had ached all last night, wanting another kiss, or another kind look.

“But what?”

“If I do something you don’t like, like if I kiss you and you ain’t ready, what’s gonna happen?” He put the wheelbarrow down and got to work on the next stall. 

“What do you mean, happen?” she asked, puzzled. “I’ll always be ready for a kiss. See?” She came into the stall, held his shovel still, and held his cheek with her other hand as she kissed him. Lord. He hadn’t felt this good since, well, for a long time. But Spot... Jack pulled away again.

“But, what if you change your mind? Then, what if...” He stopped. His words weren’t coming out right and he got frustrated as Katherine gave him an annoyed look. “Like this,” he said, pulling up the back of his shirt. “You could tell Oscar to do this again.”

Katherine stepped back, a horrified look on her face. “You think I would do that? Is that what you think?”

Jack scowled and got back to work. “Most folks don’t have a problem doing that. Why’d you be any different?” He closed up his heart and worked harder. Just forget about her, Kelly. Just work. It’s what you’re good at and all you’re good for.

Katherine stood still for a long moment. “Jack,” she said seriously. “Jack, look at me, please.” Well, it’s not like he could ignore her. Jack glanced up and back down before looking up again.

Katherine put her hand on his on the shovel. “I would never do that.” Jack gave her a skeptical look. “Never.” Jack pulled back at the sound of footsteps coming into the barn. 

“Kelly!” shouted Oscar.

“Yes, boss!” shouted Jack as he and Katherine quickly separated.

“Ain’t you done, you stupid fuck?” Oscar shouted, stopping short when he saw Katherine. “Sorry, miss, I didn’t know you was here,” he said, his face reddening.

“Almost done, boss,” said Jack. “Miss Pulitzer...” he faltered, not knowing what to say at all. Was she angry with him now? He didn’t think he’d make it through another beating like that so soon. Maybe. He swallowed hard and stared at the floor, his hand working the top of his shovel.

“I came here to ask Jack to accompany me into town later today,” said Katherine. “I want him to get the carriage ready for me.”

“He’s got work here,” said Oscar, obviously irritated. “I’ll find someone else. Someone better.”

“I want Jack to take me,” said Katherine imperiously. “I can ask whomever I like. I’m sure Jack can get his work done in plenty of time, can’t you, Jack.” Jack looked nervously up at Oscar. 

Oscar frowned. “Fine. Miss Pulitzer,” he said, lifting his cap and turning to leave.

“Thank you, Oscar,” she called after him. She turned to Jack, starting to giggle. Jack released a breath and got back to work. He didn’t like the feeling clawing at his stomach that Oscar wasn’t done with him yet. 

“See? Everything will be fine,” said Katherine. “And now we can go to town together.” She came over to Jack and put her hand on his arm. Jack flinched but turned toward her.

She smiled at him. “If you’re brave enough to lead a strike against my father, and brave enough to talk to him the way you did, aren’t you brave enough to drive me into town?”

Jack felt his heart melt all over again, and he nodded. “Yes, Miss Pulitzer, I think I’m brave enough to do that.”

“I knew it,” she said. And they kissed once more.


	14. Ben

Ben was startled to see Jack driving Katherine Pulitzer into town that afternoon. Jack didn’t see him. He was too focused on Katherine as they came down the street, Jack holding the reins loosely in his hands. Was she flirting with him, Ben wondered. Sure looked like it. Katherine put her hand on Jack’s arm and laughed at something he said. Jack flushed bright red and smiled, something that made Ben smile to see. They pulled up to the store across the street, and Jack helped Katherine down before noticing Ben watching them. He spoke to Katherine briefly, who nodded, and then crossed the street to Ben. Ben wondered if Jack would always have a limp, although it seemed to be better than it was.

“How are you, Jack,” asked Ben. “Looks like you’re having a good day today.” The bruises looked a day or two old, he guessed, so today would be good in more than one respect.

“Yes, sir, I am,” said Jack. “Katherine asked me to drive her in, so here I am.”

Ben tilted his head. “Ain’t she engaged?”

Jack nodded, looking away. “Yeah. He’s coming in tomorrow or the day after with Mr. Pulitzer.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and pressed his lips together.

Ben whistled. “You be careful, son,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Jack. “Spot already told me.”

Ben looked more closely at Jack. “You sure you’re doing okay? Charlie said you looked a little rough the other week.” Jack huffed and smiled. Charlie.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Ain’t nothing I ain’t used to. Tell Charlie I ain’t no baby.” He ran the top of this wrist under his nose. 

”What happened to your shirt, Jack? And don’t tell me no lies,” Ben frowned. It never had fit him at all, and now it looked worse than before. How the hell does a shirt get that torn up?

“It tore a little, so I fixed it, like you showed me. I been wanting to say thanks,” said Jack, shifting his shoulders. Ben narrowed his eyes. “No lie, Ben. Hey, listen, I gotta go see if Miss Pulitzer needs help carrying anything. Tell Charlie hello, okay?” Jack held out his hand and Ben shook it, watching Jack head back to the store.

Ben pulled his wagon onto the Pulitzer property, loaded down with Arnold’s delivery of gravel. Maybe Jack would be looking better than he had a few days ago? Spot had long heard Ben coming and was there to meet him, leading his horse around to the pathways that would be getting a fresh layer of gravel.

“Thank you, Spot,” said Ben. “I’m gonna need some help getting this unloaded. I ain’t as spry as I used to be. But don’t be in no rush,” he added. “I wanna talk to you.”

Spot helped Ben down and glanced around. “What about?”

“Why don’t Jack run,” asked Ben bluntly. “He’s a skittery kid, but he ain’t run off from here. I’m betting you know why.”

“I don’t tell no one’s secrets,” said Spot. “But it ain’t like Pulitzer’s kept it a secret, either. You sure you wanna know?” Ben gave Spot an impatient look. “Pulitzer said he’d hurt you and Charlie if Jack run off.”

Ben stared at Spot. “That’s it? Us?”

Spot lifted his shoulders. “Jack said you saved his life. So he ain’t running, not even after the other day.”

“The other day.”

“So Jack gets beat on pretty regular, right? Oscar don’t let him take no days off, like Sundays or nothing, like the rest of us, neither. Jack does okay with all that, and I know Charlie helps out when he comes. But Oscar beat Jack bad the other day. Real bad. And then let him hang there overnight. Jacky said he don’t know if he’s gonna make it, but I told him he would. I dunno. Anyway, if he ain’t run off after that, he ain’t running, is all I’m saying.” Spot turned a little. “I gotta get Oscar so he knows this delivery come.”

Ben waved Spot on his way, and watched him head across toward the fields toward Oscar, who was supervising the work there. How in the world did Jack think he should stay for him and Charlie after the way Ben had let him down. He thought about how Jack had cried at night at his house, how easily Jack had let Ben see his fears, even as he blustered around. 

Ben watched as Oscar shouted something, and Jack looked up and came over to Oscar. Oscar hit him across the face and Jack staggered sideways, and followed Oscar over to where Ben was waiting. Ben wished he could just grab Jack and leave, but Jack wouldn’t even look at him. Grimy and serious, Jack stood still, holding the shovel they’d brought over, and waited for orders.

“Get that unloaded, Kelly,” ordered Oscar. Jack took the shovel, climbed up onto the wagon, and got to work. “Ben, how are you,” Oscar added. “Helping Arnold out?”

“I owe him a favor,” said Ben. “Those walks will look real nice with new gravel.” He looked up at Jack, whose eye was already swelling shut. Jack still didn’t look at Ben.

Oscar grunted. “As long as this little bastard doesn’t do it wrong,” pointing his chin at Jack. Ben tightened his jaw. “Hurry it up, Kelly, you got the rest of your work waiting for you.”

“Yes, boss,” said Jack automatically, emptying another shovelful onto the ground. Ben cringed. It sounded so much like the first day he’d met Jack. So routine, so unthinking.

The dinner bell rang from the bunkhouse. Ben saw Jack dig his shovel into the gravel remaining in the wagon so that the handle was straight up, and swing his leg over the side. 

“Not you, Kelly,” said Oscar. “You’re here until this job is done.” Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and got back in the wagon. He grabbed the shovel and got back to work without a word.

Ben cleared his throat. “Think you could spare a little for an old man? I heard some stories in town today that’d make your hair stand on end, if you’d take that as payment.” Oscar nodded and waved for him to come with him. Ben didn’t dare look at Jack as they left, hearing enough with the violent crunch of Jack’s shovel digging into the bed of gravel.

Jack tried so hard to just work. No thinking, just be the animal they want, Kelly. He slowly unloaded the gravel into a massive pile on the ground, ignoring for the hundredth time the protests of his stomach and throbbing of his eye. He’d survive. Ain’t nothing new here, Kelly. But damn if Ben didn’t rub it in, going to eat with Oscar. Jack didn’t know what to make of that. Ben had been so kind, and Jack thought he’d really felt bad about the wagon, coming to see him in jail like that. And he’d been nice in town. Just work, kid. He knew how to do that. Finally he got it all out and jumped down to the ground. He sat down by the side of the wagon to wait for Oscar to come back from eating, and enjoyed the feeling of being off his feet for a moment. He heard footsteps coming back and scrambled up, rubbing his face.

“Jack, eat this fast,” said Ben, taking some biscuits and bacon out of his pocket. Jack didn’t ask any questions and shoveled the food in his mouth, gulping fast, knowing that if Ben was back then Oscar was soon to follow. Ben got up in the bed of the wagon to inspect Jack’s work. “Hurry, son, he’s coming.”

Jack swallowed and glanced up in a panic. He had one more swallow to go when Oscar came around to look at the pile of gravel on the ground. Jack gulped right as Oscar looked at him. Oscar’s face darkened as he glared at Ben and back at Jack. His face swelling with anger, Oscar picked up the shovel next to Jack and swung. Jack ducked and scrambled out of the way, and the shovel hit the side of the wagon. Ben’s horse startled and Ben grabbed the side of the bed as Oscar took another swing at Jack. Missing again, Oscar hit the horse, which reared back and bolted. Ben lost his grip on the side of the wagon and fell to the ground with a sickening crack. 

“Get that horse, Kelly!” shouted Oscar. Jack took off, chasing the wagon until the horse finally slowed in the middle of a field. Jack came around and settled him down, eventually leading him back to where Ben was lying on the ground. Oscar and Spot were kneeling over Ben as Jack tied the horse to a hitching post and ran over.

“Ben! Ben, are you all right?” Jack wheezed. Oscar shoved him back. 

Ben lay silent on the ground, and Spot looked up with a serious look. “Get some blankets in the wagon so you can take him home, Jacky,” he said. “You take him home and I’m going for the doctor. I’ll meet you there.”


	15. A Race of Sunshine

Jack and Charlie sat in the wagon with Ben until Spot came with the doctor. Spot and Jack gently lifted Ben on the blankets and carried him inside, then left at the doctor’s orders. Sitting outside with Charlie, they were silent. Jack sat on the bottom step with his arms draped over his knees, next to Charlie. Spot leaned against the railing.

“You okay here taking care of your grandpa?” Spot asked finally.

“I guess,” said Charlie. “Depends on what’s wrong, don’t it?” Spot nodded.

Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re gonna need some help, Charlie. Someone who can lift your grandpa or something, yeah? His leg looked all busted up.” Jack wished it could be him, but knew there was no way. “You got other family around?”

Charlie shook his head. “Nope. Just us.”

Jack sighed. And then had a brilliant thought. “Charlie, hear me out. You need a guy who can help? Who don’t never stop? I know a guy named Race. Racetrack. I bet you anything he needs to hide from folks in the city, and he’d help you out here no questions asked. Maybe Katherine can wire him some money or something to get here. You’d like him, Charlie. He don’t know shit about a little farm like this, but you can teach him. Mostly you just use him to move your grandpa around when he’s better and help you with the chores and stuff. What do you think?”

Charlie looked at Spot. Spot gave him a “maybe?” look. 

The door swung open and the doctor stepped out. “Ben’s got a broken hip, Charlie. It’s bad. You got someone who can help you out for a while?”

Charlie looked at Jack. “Yeah, I do. I got family coming.” Jack looked startled, then gave Charlie the biggest grin Charlie had ever seen.

Race watched Charlie’s pan hungrily. “Looks done to me,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

Charlie nudged him away. “Not yet. It ain’t done,” he said. “Bring the forks and stuff upstairs to Grandpa and when you’re done with that the food’ll be ready.”

Race groaned. “You’re a fussy one, Charlie.”

”Maybe so. But Jack said you take orders from me, and I’m telling you to take everything upstairs and I’ll finish up here while you do that.” Charlie pointed at the forks and plates with his spatula.

“Bossy, too,” added Race. He grabbed everything and brought it upstairs without another word. Ben seemed like a decent guy, and if Jack said they were gonna be good to him, well, that was good enough for Race. He came back downstairs and helped Charlie carry up the food to Ben’s bedroom.

“Here it is, Grandpa,” said Charlie. Ben smiled at Charlie. “Race is hungry, so make sure you take what you want before he gets a hold of anything.”

Charlie filled Ben’s plate and then he and Race filled theirs. Race and Jack had to be about the fastest eaters Charlie had ever seen, he thought. Charlie no sooner had offered Race more than it was gone. Ben and Charlie shrugged at each other. 

“So Race,” said Ben, “Jack told us you been friends for a while.”

“Yeah, me and Jacky been at the lodging house since we was little,” said Race, gulping down his milk. “He’s the one with them bad ideas, though, not me. We been in and out of the Refuge together, too. He’s the one what taught me how to escape so good. He always got all kinds of plans.”

“Did you escape this last time or were you released?” asked Ben. “It don’t matter to me. But I want to know what might show up on my doorstep, if you know what I mean.”

Race grinned. “Escaped. Boy, Snyder was mad that he didn’t get Jack again when he got sent to Sing Sing. Him and Jack went round and round, but Jacky never let him touch none of us till Snyder wore himself out on Jack.” Race’s face got serious for the first time since he’d arrived. “So this last time I had to do it. But it got so bad I had to get out. I dunno how Jacky did it all those times.” He shook his head, and all three of them got quiet.

“Anyway, it’s good I can help him by giving you two a hand, yeah?” Race grinned again. “When can I see him?”

Charlie started gathering up the plates. “Next egg delivery day, you can come with me. I dunno if we’ll see him, but we can try.”

Race jumped up and took the plates from Charlie. “I got this, kid. You get downstairs and get ready to wash ‘em as I bring ‘em down, okay? You need anything, Ben?”

Ben shook his head. “I’m good. I’m tired, so I think I’ll just sleep.”

“Right,” said Race. “You need me to bring you something from downstairs, you just yell or bang on the floor. I might be a lot of things, but I ain’t lazy.”

“One question, Race,” said Ben. Race stopped, hands full of dishes. “Do you steal?”

Race gazed at Ben. “Yeah,” he said. “But not from you. Jack wrote he’d kick my ass if I did dumb shit here. He ain’t havin’ it.”

Ben tried not to smile. “Good night, then, Race.”

“You have a good night, Ben. See you in the morning.” Race clattered downstairs, and Ben stayed awake listening to Race tell dirty jokes to Charlie long into the evening.


	16. Charlie Loves His Grandpa but Has Some Serious Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short lesson in estate planning. A fanfic favorite. Please just bear with me... don’t set this story on fire yet. More love and action to come very, very soon.

Charlie and Race sat back against the wall, full from lunch. Race grinned at Ben. “You want more, there, Ben? You know I’ll eat the rest if you don’t.”

“I’ll split it with you, how about that,” said Ben. He handed his plate to Race, who divided the remaining food between the two of them. They ate in silence, Charlie twirling his fork on his plate as he waited for them to finish.

“You’re a good cook, Charlie,” said Race. “You ever start up a restaurant, you’d have a gold mine.”

Charlie smiled and shook his head. “Grandpa taught me everything. He’s the one who should have the gold mine.”

Ben handed his empty plate back to Race. “Race, would you mind taking the dishes and doing cleanup? I’d like to talk to Charlie for a minute.”

“You got it,” said Race. “Anything else you want me to do?”

“Stay away from my chickens,” said Charlie. “They ain’t used to you yet. But you can fill up the wood boxes.”

“I was asking Ben, not you,” grumbled Race. “Ben, you want me to do that? With the wood?”

“Yes, please,” said Ben. “That would be helpful.”

“Done,” said Race. “You just shout if you think of anything else.” He gathered up the dishes and headed downstairs. Charlie and Ben could hear him caterwauling in the kitchen as he got started on cleanup.

Ben shook his head. “Race is something else, but Jack had a good idea, that’s for sure.”

“If you say so, Grandpa. I think I could have managed,” said Charlie, grinning. “I’m a better singer, too.”

“True. And you could have, for sure,” said Ben. “It’s just easier this way, and you have a little more company than just your old grandpa.”

“You’ve always been enough company for me, Grandpa,” said Charlie. “I like it just you and me.”

Ben smiled. “Me, too. Although I do miss Grandma. And your folks.” Charlie nodded in agreement.

“Charlie, you know a broken hip is bad news for someone my age, right?” Ben continued. Charlie nodded again, picking at the cloth of his pants. “It could be I won’t get better, really. Lots of people get real sick when something like this happens.” Charlie looked up, confused.

“It’s true. Ask the doc. I guess I’m saying that I could get real sick, Charlie. I could die. Not tomorrow, but soon. Maybe this year. I might not, but you need to know that it could happen. I want you to have a plan.”

Charlie stared at Ben. “I’d stay here, right? I’d run the place. I know how, Grandpa.”

“I know you do. You’d probably run it better’n me. But you’re young, Charlie. Some folks won’t want a kid here by himself. We gotta have a plan.” Ben blew out his cheeks. He really wished he didn’t have to have this conversation with Charlie. He wanted to live here with Charlie forever, but that’s not how life worked. “So I was thinking, if this Race fellow agreed to take over, on paper, Charlie, on paper, then he could kind of hold it for you until you got old enough. Maybe Jack would want to work here once he’s done with Pulitzer, I don’t know. But something like that. You’d have some help and wouldn’t be all alone. What do you think?”

Charlie frowned. “He’s nuts, Grandpa. And what if he don’t give it back?” 

“We’d make it part of the paperwork,” said Ben. “Maybe you’ll have a better idea. And we gotta see how Race turns out. But pretty soon we should know what we want to do. We’ll make the plan together, Charlie, okay? But it’s time to make one.”

Charlie looked back down at his pants and was quiet for a long while. Ben waited patiently. Charlie finally opened his mouth and whispered, “I love you, Grandpa. I don’t want you to die.”

“I love you too, Charlie. And believe me, I don’t want to die yet either. But let’s get something settled so I don’t have to worry about it no more.” Ben held out his hand. Charlie scooted across the floor and took it, leaning in to hug Ben. Ben wrapped his arm around Charlie and gave him a squeeze. “Now go make sure Race knows how to fill a wood bin.”

“Yes, Grandpa,” said Charlie. He took his crutch and thumped downstairs, wiping his tears away before reaching the kitchen.


	17. The Reunion and The Plan

Charlie couldn’t wait to get to Pulitzer’s. Race had been yakking for two days about him and Jack. Charlie liked Race well enough, but the guy wouldn’t shut up. Maybe he’d be better after seeing Jack, Charlie hoped. Charlie lifted his cap and pushed his sweaty hair back. It was hot for early summer, even as the sun was setting, for sure.

“...so Jack never liked salt much after that,” Race went on. “And the other time he chased a dog with three legs. The dog had three legs, not Jack, although he runs like he got three, and...”

“We’re here,” Charlie practically shouted. “Say something if you see Jack.” He scanned the property, looking for him.

“Jack!” Race actually shouted. He leaped off of the moving wagon and ran to Jack. “Jack!”

Jack’s head jerked up as he heard his name. “Race!” he yelled. He dropped the post hole digger he was holding and ran to Race. Race threw his arms around Jack as Jack thumped Race’s back. “You stupid asshole, you made it!” Race grinned wide enough to crack his own face open, Charlie thought. Jack hit Race in the stomach as Race wound his arm around Jack’s neck.

Finally Jack and Race pulled apart to look at each other, Jack continuing to grin and laugh, and Race’s face losing its glow rather quickly. Race studied Jack’s face with a familiar resignation. Jack saw his reaction and sighed a little, lifting his eyebrows. He pushed Race’s face with his hand and turned to the wagon.

“Lemme get the crate, Charlie,” Jack called. “I thought you forgot about us today.”

“I wanted to try to come when you was done working,” said Charlie. “And Grandpa said to give you this.” He held out a slip of paper.

Jack read it quickly and handed it back like it was on fire. “Got it.” He looked around nervously and grabbed the crate as the dinner bell rang. “How long can you stay?” he asked anxiously. “Day’s over.”

“A while, as long as you don’t get in trouble,” said Charlie. Jack ran to deliver the eggs and load up the empty crate into the wagon.

Jack grabbed his plate and went outside to eat with Race and Charlie in the near dark, the light from the bunkhouse windows shining out onto the stoop. Jack held out his plate and two forks to Race. “Charlie won’t eat this slop, but you hungry, Race?” Race shook his head, and Jack wolfed most of his food down before he sat on the side stoop with them.

“You bring anything for me, Charlie?” Jack asked hopefully.

“Of course,” said Charlie, pulling out a wrapped package. “I made peanut butter cookies.”

Jack’s jaw dropped as he took the package and ripped it open and crammed the cookies in his mouth. “You sure you don’t want none,” he mumbled through the crumbs to Race. 

“I already had some. You have ‘em,” replied Race.

“Thanks.” Jack picked up the crumbs as he finished the package. Licking his lips, he unbuttoned his sweat-soaked shirt and flapped it around him as he settled in.

“That’s better. Hot today, ain’t it,” he said, taking the hem of his shirt and wiping his face. “How you been, Race?” He slung his arm around Race’s neck, pulling him close, and grinned at Charlie.

“Good,” said Race. “They jacked up the price again after they broke the strike. Makes for long days selling.”

“I know,” said Jack. “I’m sorry. You break out of the Refuge?” Race nodded and Jack smiled. “How bad was it? Snyder pissed? What’d he do?”

“The usual.”

Jack grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Mostly he missed beating the crap outta you, Jacky,” said Race. “It ain’t the same with me. You last longer than I do.”

“Yeah, well, he gotta share me. Lots of other folks want their turn to beat the crap outta me,” said Jack. “Look at this.” He pulled off his shirt and turned his back toward Race. Charlie leaned over to see, but Jack had turned so only Race could see.

Race whistled. “Bet you wished you never heard of a strike, huh.”

“You got that right.” Jack tossed his shirt on the step in front of him and turned back. Charlie was able to see now, and sucked in his breath. “What, you don’t know that happens here, Charlie?” Jack asked bitterly. “Ask your grandpa sometime. Ain’t all that different than what you saw when I first come.”

Charlie looked down at the step. “I did know, I just didn’t think...”

“Forget it.” Jack turned back to Race. “What’s going on with the fellas?”

“Nothing. Albert’s still stupid. Got caught stealing and got three months. Bit the cop’s hand and got another three. But get this, Jojo got a family. Like, a real one. They found him sleeping in their carriage house and got him to stay. He’s in school and everything,” said Race.

Jack sat back, his arms planted behind him. “That’s real good. Can’t think of too many that got that. Hey, remember when we slept in that one carriage house? Didn’t no one want us to stay then, did they,” he said, laughing. “You about got us shot, you dumb fuck.” 

Race punched Jack in the chest, starting to laugh with him. “It was your idea, asshole.”

Jack laughed again and nodded. “Did Charlie tell you I really did get shot? Look here.” Jack pulled up his ragged pant leg to show off his scar. “Still ain’t walking right.”

“Yeah, he told me,” said Race.

“You be good to Charlie and Ben, yeah? They fixed me up,” said Jack, shoving his shoulder against Race. “Don’t let no one mess with them. And do what Charlie says, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” said Race. Jack looked at him fiercely. “I hear you!” he repeated.

Jack put his arm around Race again. He looked at Charlie. “You read that note your grandpa sent?” Charlie nodded. “Figured.” Jack paused. “You agree with him?”

Charlie looked at Jack defiantly. “Yeah.”

Jack glanced around and lowered his mouth to Race’s ear. “Whaddaya say, Race? Want I should bust out?”

Race gently jammed his elbow into Jack’s side. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Jack put his other arm around Charlie and drew him in too. “Gimme a little time. We gotta do this right.”


	18. Three’s a Crowd

Jack lay back in his bunk, his aches and bruises fading from his mind as he thought about Race. His whole world had changed tonight, seeing him, the one guy who knew all there was to know. Jack didn’t even mind not seeing him until the next delivery. Just knowing he was close was exhilarating. Race understood everything without having to explain anything. Relief washed over Jack as he put his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling and smiled. Everything would be all right, no matter how long Jack had to be here. Not long, he hoped. A lot would depend on Kath. He couldn’t wait to tell her about his plan tomorrow, if she could be trusted. But why not? Why would she betray him? Jack sighed with joy as exhaustion took hold at last, and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a long time.

The next morning came quickly, and Jack rose easily. He grinned at Spot as Spot dished out breakfast.

Spot shook his head. “You almost look happy to be here,” he said. Jack just kept grinning. “Don’t do nothing stupid.” Jack took his bowl and emptied it fast. Best to finish it before Oscar showed up. Sure enough, Oscar came around the corner right as Jack finished, smiling at Oscar in triumph.

Oscar barked out orders for the day, and came up to Jack last. “Finish those holes today, Kelly. Mr. Pulitzer wants his new fence up before his guests arrive next week.”

“Yes, boss,” said Jack, still with his grin plastered on his face.

”Whatsa matter with you,” snarled Oscar. 

“Just happy it’s sunny out, boss, and I ain’t gotta work in the rain today,” smiled Jack.

Oscar scowled at him. “Sunny is right. It’s almost ninety degrees and the day ain’t started yet.”

“Yes, boss,” said Jack. He whistled as he headed for his job, Oscar watching him carefully.

Katherine pouted. “But we should have a driver for the afternoon to help with things,” she said. “Do you really expect me to haul around the baskets and blankets and everything? Surely you don’t want to do all that when we have the day together.”

Milton sighed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll get Spot to drive.”

”Spot has supervisory responsibilities. I’ll ask Jack,” said Kath. “You tell Papa we’re going off later, and I’ll take care of the rest.” Kath rose onto her toes and pecked Milton on the cheek. She skipped off to the field where she’d seen Oscar, delighted that her plan had worked.

“Oscar! Oh, Oscar! I need Jack today to drive Milton and me on our outing. Surely you can spare him?” Kath waved her hand as she approached Oscar.

“He’s got a lot to get done today,” he said sourly. “Mr. Pulitzer wants his fence done.”

Katherine waved her hand dismissively. “You let me handle my father. Jack can make the work up later. Milton and I will be leaving after lunch.”

“Yes, Miss Pulitzer,” said Oscar.

Milton looked skeptically at Jack as Jack loaded up the carriage. “Not quite what most drivers look like,” he said to Katherine.

“We’re in the country, Milton,” said Katherine dryly. “There’s no one to impress out here. Jack is very capable.” Jack smiled to himself as he kept working.

He turned as Katherine put her hand on his arm. “Is that all, miss?” he asked. When was the last time he’d smiled this much in one day, he wondered. He had reveled in Katherine’s approach earlier, resting on his digger as she came to ask him to drive her this afternoon. He’d pay for it later, he knew. Oscar would make sure of that. Jack had even worked up the nerve to tell her he had something to ask her later, and she had smiled at him. 

“Yes, that’s all, Jack,” she said.

Jack took his shirt and wiped his face. “Well, are you two ready then?” Kath let Milton help her up into the rear seat of the carriage as Jack pulled himself up into the front. He started them off on the road to the field and pond Kath had told him to go to, enjoying the little breeze as they went along. Enjoy it now, Kelly, he reminded himself. 

“How is the fence coming,” Katherine called from behind.

Jack turned back a little so she could hear him. “Good,” he said. “Ain’t nothing good enough for Oscar, but I think it’s good.”

Milton spoke up, a slight edge to his voice. “Oscar would know better, wouldn’t he, as your boss?”

Jack grinned. “Yes, boss,” he said.

“Is it hard to dig those holes, Jack?” asked Katherine. “Or is the ground soft this time of year?”

“After a few hours it gets hard, miss,” said Jack. “Near kills you after a whole day. But Oscar says I’m just a lazy bast... person, and he knows better, so I guess that’s it.”

He could hear the smile in Katherine’s voice. “Yes, I suppose Oscar is right.”

“Surely so,” said Milton.

“You ever spent a day digging holes, Milton?” Jack called back. “Good exercise, ain’t it?” He pulled at the back of his shirt as it began to dry out.

“I suppose it would be,” said Milton.

Jack kept grinning as they eventually pulled up to the field Katherine told him to go to. He jumped down and began carrying the picnic supplies and food over to the spot Katherine pointed out. Oscar hadn’t let him eat before they left, but that was a small price to pay for the afternoon, Jack thought. As he finished setting up the picnic, he headed back toward the carriage to wait.

“Oh, Jack, please join us,” said Kath. She motioned for him to come back. “There’s plenty, isn’t there, Milton?” Jack saw Milton grit his teeth as he agreed with her.

“I don’t wanna get in the way,” said Jack, smiling back at Katherine. “I’ll just take a nap over there,” he said, pointing.

“Don’t be silly,” said Katherine. “You must join us.”

Jack shrugged at Milton like he didn’t have a choice and settled down on the picnic blanket, although he took note of Milton clenching and unclenching his fists. “All right. What’re we having?”

Katherine sorted out the food from the baskets, astonishing Jack with the amount that had been packed. Oscar would be furious, Jack thought, to know Jack was being included. Jack helped himself, trying to wipe his dirt-caked hands on his dirty shirt before reaching for something, not missing Milton’s look of disgust whenever Jack did so. Jack kept an eye on Milton’s hands. He wasn’t afraid of Milton, but didn’t feel like being taken by surprise, either. Milton had a white-knuckled grip on his paring knife as he cut into an apple, and Jack watched him until he put the knife down.

“Do you like chicken salad, Jack?” Katherine asked, offering him more.

Jack took some more, heaping it onto his plate. “I ain’t fussy,” he said. “It’s great, though.” He took a huge bite, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“More cake?” Katherine asked.

“Yes, please, miss,” said Jack, his mouth full. Katherine gave him a second enormous slice as Milton cleared his throat noisily. Jack and Katherine exchanged a look, trying not to laugh.

“Did you want another slice too, Milton?” Katherine asked.

Milton shook his head, his mouth tight. “May I take you out in the rowboat, Katherine? Perhaps we could enjoy a private moment?” He gave Jack a meaningful look.

“You got it, boss,” said Jack. “I’ll just take a nap right here.” Jack nearly laughed out loud as Katherine rolled her eyes at him. He laid back, hands under his head, grinning at her again. “You have a nice time, miss.” Katherine kicked him as she walked by on her way to the pond.

Jack closed his eyes, letting the hot sun soak into him. It was luxurious, this picnic. He liked how rich people lived, and how they ate. Christmas, it was nice. He sat up a bit and snuck some more chicken salad, watching Milton push off in the rowboat. Jack kicked off his boots and laid back down, wishing Race could see him now. The hum of the insects lulled him into a haze, and Jack relaxed, drifting back to summertime in the city. He heard the splash of the water hitting the piers, the yell of the men unloading the ships as he sat with Race and watched from the docks, their legs dangling over the side. The splashes were louder than he remembered. He didn’t remember women being there, though, not during the day, anyway. They definitely didn’t scream. Jack shook his head and pushed himself up onto his elbows to reposition himself.

“Jack!” Katherine cried. “Help!”


	19. Intolerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, this is a violent chapter with sexual assault. It is not described in much detail, but it involves grabbing and forced kissing. I don’t want anyone hurt reading my stuff. It happens in the first third of the chapter, and Katherine briefly describes it toward the end, if you want to try to skip those parts.
> 
> There is a lot of physical violence here as well. You can probably skip it and read the next chapter and follow along pretty easily. It’s not like I have really complicated plots. Just anger issues, evidently.
> 
> Please take care!

Jack tore off his shirt and ran into the pond, diving in once the water got deep. He swam out to the rowboat, not entirely sure what was happening, and came up for air as he got close. He saw Katherine struggling with Milton, still shouting for Jack, as Milton grabbed her wrists. Jack yanked on the side of the boat, trying either to get in or knock Milton off balance, and Katherine tumbled into the water. Milton still had a hold of her, but Jack grabbed Milton by the shirt collar and started pulling on him to get him away from Katherine.

Kath broke away and started swimming for shore, but her soaked dress dragged her down. Jack punched Milton on the back of the head to slow him down and went to Kath, taking her under her arms and pulling her back to shallow water on his back, using one arm to swim and one arm to support her. Milton followed, dazed, although Jack kicked at him to keep him at bay. Finally they reached shallow water and Kath started to get out, Jack staying behind to confront Milton. It wasn’t hard for Jack to knock Milton silly, Milton being weighed down by his clothes and Jack far more ready to fight. 

Jack left Milton sitting dazed and bloody in the water as he went to Kath. She crawled up onto land, her dress pouring off water. Jack lifted her up, stunned at how heavy her clothes were, water draining off of both of them as he staggered to the carriage. He lifted her into the back seat and leaped into the front, panting, taking off for the Pulitzer home, lurching down the lane and skidding to a stop as they arrived.

He turned back to Katherine, finally speaking. “Are you all right? What happened back there?” Katherine just stared at him as he scrambled back to her, helping her out. He looked her over, seeing bruises forming on her wrists and her lips looking swollen.

“Come here,” he said, lifting her up again and carrying her inside, both of them still dripping. He looked around as they entered and decided on the sofa in the side room. A maid came rushing in at the commotion and rushed right back out. Jack tried to smooth out Katherine’s dress and hair, leaning over her as he did so, still looking for other injuries. 

“Are you all right?” he whispered. “Did Milton try...” Katherine nodded, still dazed. Jack took her hand, still bent over her, and continued to stroke her cheek and hair to try to calm her. 

“What is all this!” thundered Pulitzer. Jack whirled around, startled. He straightened up, realizing as he went to straighten his shirt that he had left it and his boots at the picnic site. The butler hovered behind Pulitzer, eyes wide.

“Mr. Pulitzer,” Jack gasped. “Katherine is all right, I think. She...” Jack stopped suddenly as Oscar burst through the front door with two of the other hands. “I got her safe. Milton, he...” Oscar came closer. Jack held up his hands. 

“Mr. Pulitzer, Katherine, Miss Katherine, she got hurt. I brought her home.” Jack gestured wildly to Katherine, hoping she might be able to speak. She sat, staring up at her father, silent.

'

“Maude, get Katherine upstairs,” Pulitzer ordered the maid. Maude went to Katherine and got her to stand and walk slowly up the stairs. Jack watched, desperate to go with her, but turned to face Pulitzer.

Jack began to panic as he saw the look in Pulitzer’s face. “I didn’t hurt her. Sir. I didn’t. It was Milton. They were in the boat, and Katherine, Miss Katherine, she... I was by the food...” Jack faltered yet again.

“You were by the food, so that is why you are soaking wet.”

“No, sir, she called...” The front door slammed open again, and all heads turned to the sight of a wet Milton standing in the entryway.

“You,” Milton glowered at Jack. “How dare you.” His face was turning a dark shade of purple.

Jack glanced at the other door leading from the side room. In a full panic, he turned and ran towards it just as the maid was entering. As they both crashed to the floor, Oscar and his hands hauled Jack up, holding his arms back, and pushed him in front of Pulitzer and Milton.

“The innocent don’t run, Jack,” said Pulitzer quietly. He looked at Oscar. “Take care of him,” he said. “He goes to Sing Sing tomorrow.”

“No, sir! No, it’s not what you think! Please!” Jack shouted as he was dragged toward the entry. Milton stopped Oscar for a moment and spoke into his ear. Oscar nodded.

“Yes, boss,” Jack heaved, as Milton hit him in the stomach again. Blood dripped from Jack’s chin as he tried once more to catch his breath.

He heard Oscar laugh. “You didn’t think Milton had it in him, did you, Jacky.”

Jack lifted his eyes to look at Oscar as Milton swung at Jack’s face. Jack felt him connect at his temple, his vision dimming, although in the lamplight it was hard to tell what made things dim. “Yes, boss,” he repeated, slurring the words.

“That’s right, Kelly. Keep saying that. I’m the boss. You keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you. Isn’t that right,” said Milton, catching Jack in the jaw this time.

“Yes...boss...” said Jack, panting. His shoulders were aching from straining against the ropes binding him to the post, his hands bound on the other side.

“If Jack is leaving tomorrow, Mr. Milton, mind if I say goodbye?” Oscar asked.

Milton nodded, shaking his hand out. “I’m not finished, but certainly, say goodbye to the little bastard.”

Jack looked up, his mouth open as he gasped, and watched Oscar approach. “Afraid, Oscar? Afraid to take me less I’m tied up?”

Oscar swung at Jack’s stomach and knocked all the air of out him. He waited, smiling, as Jack gagged and heaved. “Fuck you, Kelly,” he said. 

Jack’s head buzzed and rang as Oscar gave several powerful blows to Jack’s face before catching him in the neck and body. He felt more blood dripping from his mouth as he coughed and tried to breathe. 

“All yours, Mr. Milton. Thank you,” said Oscar, flexing his hand and stepping away. 

Milton had Oscar turn Jack around on the post, as Jack hung limply. “You’re going to keep telling us who’s in charge, Kelly, get it?” said Milton, reaching for the whip.

“Yes, boss,” Jack whispered hoarsely. 

“Start counting, Kelly,” said Milton. “And remember who Katherine belongs to.” He cracked the whip down and waited as Jack cried out.

“One, boss,” Jack finally managed. Milton hit him again. And again.

Oscar turned as he heard footsteps in the barn. “You want a turn, Spot? You know what this bastard did to Katherine?” Spot winced as he heard another crack.

“You gotta stop, Oscar. You’re gonna kill ‘im,” said Spot. “You don’t want that. Let them get him at Sing Sing.” He winced again as the fifth blow hit Jack. Oscar looked over at Jack’s head lolling back as he clenched his fists around the post.

“Stop, Milton,” said Oscar. “We can’t deliver a dead man to Sing Sing.”

Milton paused. He reached back and hit Jack one more time. Jack cried out again. “All right.”

He walked up to Jack and leaned in close. “Tell me who Katherine belongs to, Jack. Hm? Who?”

Jack heaved for breath, blind with pain. “You, boss,” he managed to say.

“That’s right. You think about that the next several years in prison. I guarantee they’ll add to your sentence after what happened today.” Milton handed the whip to Oscar and walked out.

Jack pressed his forehead against the post, praying it was over. He felt Spot release his hands and help him down. 

“I got him, Oscar,” said Spot. “I got him.” Oscar shrugged and left.

“You’re gonna be okay, Jacky,” whispered Spot. “But we gotta get you outta here tonight. Ain’t no way you’re gonna make it in Sing Sing now if they think you done something to Katherine.”

Jack shook his head, trying to speak. “I...”

“I know you didn’t,” said Spot. “But it don’t matter what I think. Jacky, you wanna live, you gotta listen to me. You want Katherine to run with you?” Jack nodded, his desperation to see her growing. “She’s here, Jack. Lemme get her.”

Jack pushed himself up, spitting out blood, terrified of what she would think of him like this again. Katherine came into view, coming close and touching him gently. “Kath, you all right?” he asked.

“He said I belonged to him, and to stop playing cruel games,” she said. “He grabbed my arms, Jack.” 

Jack tried to reach for her, but couldn’t hold himself up on one arm, and collapsed. He pushed himself up again, breathing hard. “Run away with me,” he said.

Katherine stared at him. “What?”

“Run away with me,” he said again, strength draining from him. Spot came and helped support him.

“I gotta take him outta here tonight, Miss Katherine,” said Spot. “I can make it so you can escape tomorrow and meet up with Jack.” 

“Please,” said Jack. “You deserve better. I won’t never hurt you.”

Kath started to nod slowly. “Yes. I will. I can’t stay here, not now. Not after this afternoon, and not after what they did to you for helping me,” she said. She turned to Spot. “You’re sure you can do this?”

“Yes,” said Spot. “Jacky was gonna ask you to run anyway, weren’t you, kid,” he asked. Jack nodded. “I knew it. Just not this soon. But we can make it work.”

Jack reached for Katherine again. She took his hand tentatively. “I’m ready,” she said.

“Good,” said Spot. “Let me get you back to the house. Then Jack and me gotta go.” He got up and helped Katherine to her feet. Jack lay on the floor, not wanting to move at all, knowing that in a few minutes he must.

Race opened the door, peering out into the dark. “Jacky? Spot?” He opened it wider as Spot dragged Jack in.

Charlie thumped into the kitchen. “What the fuck happened to Jack?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“The plan starts now,” said Spot. “It ain’t what Jack had in mind, but it’s the plan now.”


	20. Spot and Ben

Spot sure seemed to be taking the long way back to the bunkhouse, Jack thought. His feet hurt as he stumbled along the dirt road, losing track of time. Katherine... she had been there, right? She’d been hurt, he remembered. She’d come see him, like last time, his heart warming to the thought. She’d come. And he’d ask her to run away with him. Wait. He’d done that already. Or not? She’d said yes. Yes, he had asked her. She’s coming. And where the fuck was the bunkhouse? He groaned at Spot to ask him, but no words came. He kept moving as Spot dragged and carried him along.

“Keep moving, Jacky,” he heard. “You can do it. One more step. Just one more.” Spot said this a thousand times, it seemed to Jack. Spot? Or Race? Who was talking to him? Race. They were escaping from the Refuge. Just keep going, Jack, Race said. I got you. The lodging house was so far away. Was the city always this dark? Christ Almighty, he hurt. He spat out some blood.

“Race,” he said. “Race.” Spot grunted a reply, but Jack couldn’t make it out.

Jack heard Charlie and Race talking, and sank into the braided rug by the fireplace without replying. He opened his right eye a little and saw the fire before closing it again. He heard Charlie again, and felt someone sit by him. Jack started to move away.

“Jacky,” Race said softly. “You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s me.”

Jack stopped. “Race?” He held out his hand.

Race took it. “You’re at Charlie’s. Spot brung you here so you can run away. You gotta wait for Kath, though.”

Jack squeezed Race’s hand. Run away. Yes, please. But Charlie, and Ben. Jack startled. “But Ben. They’ll...” 

Race moved closer and laid down on the rug next to Jack, facing him. “Ben said to do it, remember? He said he can take care of himself, right? Him and Charlie?” Jack remembered the note and nodded.

“You look like shit, Jacky,” Race said. “I’m gonna get some water and get the blood offa you.”

“Albert,” said Jack hoarsely, trying to smile.

“Yeah, well, he ain’t here, so someone’s gotta tell you you look like shit.” Race got up and went to the kitchen.

Jack closed his eyes again, feeling his body hurt. Oscar had hit him. No. Yes. And Milton. Milton? Yes. Stronger than he looked. But scared to fight, Jack thought with some satisfaction. He had to tie him up. Jack snorted a little. Oh, his gut. Can’t do that. 

Race came back and began to wipe the blood off of Jack’s face, looking up as he heard Charlie and Spot come back down. 

“Grandpa wants to move downstairs,” said Charlie.

Race stared at him, his hand paused midair. “Okay. Spot and me can get him.” He handed the rag to Charlie and went upstairs with Spot. “You running away too?” Race asked Spot.

“No,” Spot replied as they entered Ben’s room. “I’ll help you with Ben but then I gotta get back before they notice. I don’t got much time left there, so I ain’t running.”

Jack lifted his head as Ben got settled on the sofa by the window. Ben ordered the window open so he could see out better, he said.

Spot knelt by Jack. “You get outta here,” he ordered. “Don’t never come back.”

Jack reached for Spot. “I’m sorry I called you Race,” he mumbled. “You come to Santa Fe when you get done and look me up.”

“You got it,” said Spot. He got up and looked down at Jack. “Calling me Race was good, kid. See you soon.” Spot shook Ben’s hand, gave Charlie and Race a wave, and took off into the dark.

“Charlie, you and Race fix it up in the cellar for Jack. Make it up good so he can hide until Katherine gets here,” Ben ordered.

Charlie lit two lamps and handed one to Race. “Let’s go,” he said. “Go get some blankets from the barn. Bring my crutch down when you get back.” Race nodded and left without a word. Charlie went into the kitchen and opened the door to the cellar, and put the lamp on the floor by the steps. He put down his crutch and sat on the steps to go down, holding the lamp in his hand. Jack could hear Charlie starting to move things around in the cellar.

“Jack,” said Ben. Jack turned to Ben. “I didn’t think you could look any worse than you did when you first come, but here you are. Spot told us everything.” 

Jack slid himself across the floor to Ben, his body protesting every move. He looked up into Ben’s face in the moonlit room. His chest suddenly heaved as he caught his breath. His throat felt tight and he pulled back the corners of his mouth as he blinked his right eye.

“Grandpa,” he said. Where did that come from? He looked down in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

Ben put his hand on Jack’s head. Jack didn’t look up. Ben moved his hand to Jack’s bruised chin and lifted his face. Ben’s fingers were warm and gentle, and Jack loved how they felt. Jack averted his eyes, ashamed. What was he, six years old again? He shouldn’t need this. “It’s okay, Jack. I don’t mind.” Jack shook his head and looked down again.

“Look at me, son,” said Ben. Jack obeyed, briefly. “I don’t mind. You can call me Grandpa.” Jack swallowed and nodded a little. He put his head on the sofa and let Ben rest his hand on his head. He sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Grandpa,” he said, “I hurt so bad.”

“I know,” said Ben. “I know.”


	21. Crazy or Not, Here We Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Katherine remembers Milton’s assault at the beginning of the chapter.

Katherine let herself be guided upstairs and changed into dry clothes, still in shock. Her wrists still felt like Milton was grabbing them. His words still echoed in her mind. “You’re mine. Don’t forget that.” He’d never acted like that before. Never. “How dare you mock me.” She’d glanced over to see Jack napping by the picnic, ankles crossed. And then Milton was on her and she was screaming, screaming for Jack.

You’re mine. She felt her wrists herself, just to be sure Milton wasn’t still holding her. She wasn’t sure how she got out of the pond, exactly, although she’d seen Jack stay behind to fight Milton. Her dress was unbelievably heavy, but somehow Jack had lifted her and carried her all the way to the carriage.

Katherine knew loving Jack was a pipe dream, yet here he was. Not a picture in the newspaper, not just a figure in her father’s stories, but here, and real. Why not talk to him, and care for him, and kiss him? He certainly didn’t seem to mind. She smiled as she remembered his grin after they kissed, and their carefree ride into town, smiling and teasing. 

Kath touched her lips, swollen and sore. Other than falling from her horse a few times, she had never been injured. Certainly no one had laid a hand on her like this. Again she thought of Jack, and how brutal Oscar had been. How had she been so ignorant? Spot’s barely disguised look of scorn as she offered to help Jack would forever be burned in her memory. You’re mine. You’re mine. She knew the law regarding women and their husbands. How could she not, being Pulitzer’s daughter? But the brute physicality of Milton reminded her of the violence that could go with the law. The violence that kept Jack in his place, as it were. She had chosen to ignore it, chosen to help, and now been forced to reckon with it herself. She tried envisioning a lifetime of fear. A lifetime of belonging to Milton, afraid of his hands and lips. If Jack could fight back, so could she, she thought. Maybe he didn’t win, but he still tried. Surely she could do the same.

She went to her window and looked out. Jack was being escorted to the barn, struggling, with Milton following. No, she thought, not again. This couldn’t be. She ran to her bedroom door and slipped down the stairs. She heard her father eating in the dining room. Quietly she retraced her steps to the hall of her bedroom and went down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen, leaving the house quietly with a finger on her lips to the kitchen staff.

Spot saw her on her way to the barn. “Come with me, miss,” he said. “This ain’t something you should see.” Katherine had followed him through the side door as he led her to an empty stall to wait. She could hear the sounds of Jack being beaten, and tried not to be sick. The man she was supposed to love was doing this? He’d been very kind to her until today, even if she didn’t love him. And here he was, demanding Jack call him “boss” as he beat him? Katherine’s stomach churned, both for Jack and for herself. Finally, Spot led her out to Jack.

Leave? Truly leave? She looked at the bloodied boy in front of her. He had lost, every time. Lost the strike. Lost after trying to escape. Lost to Oscar. And now he’d lost trying to rescue her. But she had loved what he had tried to do, every time. He’d saved her. She looked into his pleading eyes, the eyes that had sparkled and teased, and heard him promise never to hurt her. Of course she would run away. Of course she would.

Oscar galloped down the road to Ben’s place, slowing as he came up the lane. He took of his hat to shield his eyes even further as he scoped out the property for signs of Jack. He ducked as a bullet whizzed by his head.

“Jesus Christ! Ben! It’s Oscar! Stop shooting!” he shouted, dropping his hat. He stopped and listened. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” said Ben, shouting through the window. “I don’t know nobody named Oscar. Get off my property!”

Stupid old fool, thought Oscar, dismounting and picking up his hat. Some days Ben seemed fine, but then there were days like this. How Ben and Charlie kept themselves alive was more than he could understand. “Jack run off. Is he here?”

“Who the fuck is Jack?” shouted Ben. “My grandson’s name is Charlie. He ain’t run off. He’s out on egg delivery.”

Oscar sighed in frustration. “Charlie ain’t run off. Jack run off. You seen him?”

“Who the fuck are you? Get off my property!” Ben shouted. He fired his gun into the air, enjoying the sight of Oscar ducking again.

Oscar took a deep breath. “Shit, Ben, it’s Oscar! From Pulitzer’s! Can I look around for a runaway?” The puff of dust that the next bullet kicked up by Oscar’s feet answered his question. He jumped back on his horse, wheeled around, and galloped back down the lane.

Ben chuckled to himself and pounded his cane on the floor. “You can come up, Jack. He’s gone.”

Katherine awoke the next morning, Spot’s plan still ringing in ears. He was so sure. Would Milton be at breakfast, as if nothing had happened? She peered into the deserted hallway and went down to breakfast. No one was there either, strangely.

“Maude,” she called, “where is everyone?”

“Your father is talking with the deputies, Miss Katherine,” said Maude, bringing her the plates that had been kept warm for her in the kitchen. “The boy who, ah, caused your distress has run away. He was to go back to prison today, but now he’s gone.”

Katherine slowly took a bite of food. “Is that so,” she said. “And Milton, where is he?”

“Out searching for the boy,” replied Maude. “I expect he will be gone until the boy is found.”

Spot watched Oscar come back into the yard and went to take the horse. “Any luck, boss?” Spot asked.

“Ben is insane,” said Oscar. He dismounted and gave Spot a frustrated look. “Gotta go tell Mr. Pulitzer now.” 

Spot led the horse back to the barn, looking over his shoulder as Oscar went inside. He knew what would happen anyway, but he still wanted to know what Oscar told Pulitzer. Spot grabbed some wood to take to the kitchen, dropping it into the box by the stove and going to the swinging door to listen. 

“He ain’t there, Mr. Pulitzer,” he heard Oscar say. “I looked everywhere. I told Ben to tell me or I’d burn his barn down, but he just started clucking like a chicken. Want me to go back and be more persuasive?”

“Not yet. Get Conlon,” Pulitzer said. “He knows where Kelly is, I’m sure.”

Spot fled out the kitchen door and raced to the barn, just in time for Oscar to find him hard at work there. “Pulitzer wants you,” Oscar smirked.

Spot straightened and looked at Oscar. “I don’t know nothing about where Jack is,” he said. Oscar shrugged and pointed toward the house. Spot took a breath and headed in, Oscar following.

“Conlon,” said Pulitzer. “Where’s Kelly?”

“I don’t know, sir,” said Spot. “He was gone when I got up this morning.” True.

“Oscar says you took over last night. You were the last one to see him,” said Pulitzer.

“I dunno where he is, sir,” said Spot. Also true. He did not know precisely where Jack was, he reasoned.

“He was your responsibility, and now he’s gone. You will tell us where he is,” Pulitzer said sternly.

“I can’t,” said Spot. Won’t, can’t, this ain’t school.

Oscar snickered. Pulitzer scowled.

Charlie rolled into Pulitzer’s at the end of his route, the sun setting fast. Oscar came out to meet him, holding out the money and carrying the empty crate from the previous week.

“Here you are, Charlie,” said Oscar. “Thought you forgot about us.” He took out the last crate of eggs from the wagon and tossed the empty crate in.

“I thought I was early,” said Charlie. “I won’t forget you last month.”

Oscar stared for a second, then shook his head. “Yeah, okay. Say, you seen Jack Kelly around? He been to your place today?”

“How would I know?” said Charlie. “But I’ll help you look. I’ll go check out the bunkhouse for you.” Before Oscar could reply, Charlie flicked his reins and headed to the bunkhouse.

“Jack!” he shouted. “Oh, Jaaaack!” He glanced back to see Oscar throw up his hands in disbelief. Charlie pulled around the corner and stopped by the door. Katherine poked her head out of the bunkhouse.

“Hurry,” said Charlie. “Jaaaaack!” he yelled again. Katherine pulled herself into the back of the old wagon and closed herself into the compartment below. Charlie drove around back toward the house, stopping in front of the barn door where Oscar was waiting for him. “He ain’t there, Oscar. I yelled and yelled for him. See you tomorrow!”

“You aren’t due to come back for another week,” said Oscar.

“Oh,” said Charlie. “Okay. See you then!” Charlie glanced into the barn and froze. There was Spot, limp and motionless on the post. Blood had soaked into the waist of his pants.

“He didn’t know where Jack was either,” said Oscar, smirking. “I tried to help him remember.”

Charlie turned on his smile. “See you next month, Oscar. Gotta get home. My chickens get lonely.” Oscar nodded and watched Charlie leave. Did he always drive that old wagon? Something tickled at his memory.

He turned back to the barn. “You remember anything yet, Conlon?”

“Fuck you,” mumbled Spot. 

“Let’s see if I can help some more,” said Oscar, grinning. His mind went back to the wagon briefly, but came back to Spot. Unusual to have action two days in a row, but it livened things up.


	22. Final Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: gun violence and death.

“You made it,” said Jack in disbelief, as Katherine entered the kitchen. His non-swollen eye sparkled as he watched her come over to him and bend down for a kiss.

“Of course I did,” she said. She ran her hand over his bare shoulders.

“Well, don’t say it like happens every day! You’re in deep now, girl. We’re leaving tonight. Race’s finding me an old shirt of Ben’s and some old boots now. As soon as he does that, we’re out of here.” Jack gazed up at her, still finding it hard to believe she actually came.

“Got ‘em,” cried Race, coming down the stairs. “Nicer than what you had, Jacky.” Jack tried to smile as he bent over to put on the boots. They were a little big, but better that than too small. Race helped him with the shirt as Jack gasped with pain.

“Thanks, Ben,” said Jack, coming into the front room. He stopped by the sofa and held out his hand. “I owe you, for sure.”

Ben smiled back at Jack and shook Jack’s hand with both of his. “You take care, Jack Kelly. You owe me only one thing.”

“Name it,” said Jack. 

Ben motioned for Jack to bend down. Jack grimaced and bent over, putting his ear near Ben’s face. “Be Charlie’s brother,” whispered Ben. “No matter where you are.”

Jack straightened a little and leaned back to see Ben’s eyes. “Every day till the day I die, Grandpa,” he said. How he loved saying Grandpa.

Ben smiled. “Then we’re even.”

“Come on, let’s go!” shouted Charlie. “They’re gonna notice Katherine is gone any minute.”

“He’s bossy, Grandpa,” said Jack.

“Don’t I know it,” said Ben. “Love him anyway.”

Oscar stepped out into the cool evening, still aggravated that Spot wouldn’t talk. Probably by morning if he left him there, he’d talk. He thought more about Charlie’s wagon. That kid hadn’t used that in forever, except the one day when Jack showed up... Oscar ran to his horse, threw on the saddle, and took off in the dark for Ben’s place. He wasn’t sure what the old wagon had to do with Jack today, but there had to be something. Something with him and Katherine.

In the full moonlight, Oscar rode hard down the lane to Ben’s, surprised and yet not to see Jack and Katherine driving toward him in the old wagon.

“You’re mine, Kelly,” he shouted. “You’re coming back with me.”

Jack pulled the wagon to a stop, looking back at the house where Ben was watching out the window, and the front of the house, where Race and Charlie stood nearby. “I don’t think so, Oscar. I ain’t going back to Pulitzer’s or Sing Sing.”

“Leave him alone, Oscar,” shouted Ben from the window. “Just leave him be. He’s paid plenty for escaping from Sing Sing.”

Oscar turned a mock astonished look toward Ben. “You do know me, is that right? Shut up, you old bastard.” Oscar pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Jack. “Don’t think I won’t.”

A shot cracked through the air, and Oscar ducked. “You missed, old man!” he shouted. “I had enough of you!” He turned to the window and fired. 

“Grandpa!” cried Charlie. He ran inside as Jack tried to control the horse hitched to his wagon.

Oscar smirked and turned his attention back to Jack. “As I was saying, Kelly...” and he stopped as another shot pierced the air. Blood came down Oscar’s face as he slumped forward on his horse, clearly dead.

“Charlie!” Race shouted. Jack leaped down off of the wagon, handed the reins to Katherine and ran toward Oscar. Jack pulled Oscar down and heaved him onto his back with a thump. Oscar stared blankly up at the night sky. Jack gulped and ran into the house, finding Race and Charlie kneeling by Ben. Charlie looked up at Jack, tears running down his face.

“Charlie,” Ben wheezed, blood bubbling from his mouth. Backing up, Jack pulled Race back outside. “Charlie, my boy.”

“Grandpa,” sobbed Charlie. “Don’t go. I ain’t ready. I ain’t old enough. Grandpa, don’t.” Charlie grabbed Ben’s shirt and pulled him close.

“I love you, Charlie. I love you with all my heart.” Ben stroked Charlie’s hair, his hand slowly going limp.

“Grandpa,” whispered Charlie. He pulled Ben in closer, letting out an agonized yell. He wrapped his arms around Ben, squeezing him hard. “Come back. Come back, please,” he begged. 

Jack came back in. “Charlie, Oscar’s dead.” Charlie looked up, his eyes wide and wild. “Who shot him, Charlie?”

Charlie’s face hardened. “I did.”

“No,” said Jack. “Ben did. Ben did it, you hear me?”

“I ain’t lying, Jack. I ain’t a coward,” said Charlie fiercely.

“Then you’re coming with us,” said Jack. “You stay here and tell the truth and you’ll end up in Sing Sing. And you won’t make it. That’s the truth too.”

Charlie wiped his face furiously. “I ain’t leaving my grandpa.” 

“You wanna join him after a few weeks in prison?” Jack shouted coldly. “Leave him! We gotta go.”

“No!” Charlie shouted back.

“Yes!” said Race loudly. Charlie turned to him in shock. “We’re going. Jack, Kath, get underneath. You’re the ones folks are looking for. Well, for now. Let’s go, let’s go!” Jack, Kath, and Charlie all stared at Race. “Or are we all going to Sing Sing?” A mad scramble ensued as they obeyed Race’s orders.

Charlie grabbed the reins and the wagon shot down the lane. 

Jack held onto Katherine, trying not to cry from the pain. Charlie had done the kindness of putting some blankets in the compartment for Katherine, so that helped somewhat, but not a lot. He wished he could see Katherine’s face, but maybe it was just as well that he didn’t. Had she ever seen a body before? Jack still felt stunned by the gunfire. He was used to fists and clubs, but not bullets. Oscar was surely dead. Completely dead. They’d find him in the morning, and Ben, too, then. Or were they searching for Katherine already? Jack went numb as he thought of Ben. He couldn’t picture how Charlie must be feeling. Jack gripped Katherine a little harder. She’d want no part of this now. But she couldn’t go back, could she? Jack’s brain rattled too much to think clearly.

Hours later, the wagon slowed and stopped. Jack waited for Charlie to let them out, and blinked in the growing sunlight as he looked up at both Charlie and Race. “Where are we?” he asked shakily. Katherine looked absolutely exhausted.

“Train station,” said Race. “Where’re we going?”

“West,” said Jack. They figure out Santa Fe later. He looked at Charlie, whose pale face and unstable glint in his eye had him a little concerned. “You tired, Charlie? Let’s hop a train so you can sleep.”

Charlie shook his head and pointed at Katherine. “We can’t go with her looking like that. We’ll be caught by the end of the day.”

Jack looked at Katherine again. Charlie was right. Three poor boys and a rich girl would surely stand out. “What do you suggest?” he asked Charlie.

“Race needs to steal some boys’ clothes. We cut her hair, and she’s a boy until we get to wherever we’re going. Four boys won’t attract much attention.” Charlie waited impatiently for his orders to be carried out. Bossy, thought Jack. But right.

“You heard the man, Race,” said Jack. “Get going.” Race gave a quick nod and took off toward the houses nearby.

“You okay with that, Kath?” Jack asked. Katherine didn’t look like she should be making any decisions at the moment, but it couldn’t be helped. She nodded, and Charlie brought out a large jackknife from under the wagon seat. Jack wondered what other kinds of weaponry Charlie kept under there, but decided against asking. 

“Sit,” ordered Charlie. Katherine sat on the edge of the wagon and didn’t move until Charlie had hacked off most of her hair. Jack raised his eyebrows. She did not look like a boy.

Race came back and shoved the clothes at her. “Go change.”

Katherine glanced around. “Where?”

“For gosh sakes,” said Charlie. “Fellas, turn around and make a wall around her with me.” Jack and Race obeyed, linking arms, and Katherine did her best to not bump them as she disrobed and redressed as quickly as she could. 

“Done,” she said. They turned around. Jack winced. Race blew out his cheeks.

Charlie sighed. “It’ll work from a distance. Jack, find the right train. Race, go pitch the dress somewhere.”

Jack scouted out the trainyard as Race ditched the dress and retrieved the blankets from the wagon. He hitched it in a more public place and patted the horse. “You be good,” he said. “Someone will take you.”

Jack figured out which trains were likely headed west, and they crept along until they found an empty boxcar. Jack and Race hauled Charlie and Kath up, and they made a corner their own with the blankets.

Charlie sat back, his face suddenly exhausted. He flopped his head back and looked at Jack. “Grandpa’s dead,” he said blankly. 

Jack nodded. “Come here,” he said, putting his arm around him. “Ben was the best, yeah?”

Charlie nodded, his face crumpling. “Yeah.” Tears melted out of his eyes. He rubbed his face into Jack’s shoulder.

“Hey, Kath is gonna need a boy’s name for a while. Can we call her Ben?” Jack asked, giving Kath a questioning look.

She nodded, smiling at Charlie. “I’d like that, if you’ll let me, Charlie.”

Charlie bit his lip for a moment. “Can I change my mind?”

“Of course,” said Kath. 

Charlie smiled. “Okay. Ben.” The train jerked and squealed as it started on its way. Race and Jack grinned at each other.

“Jack, remember the time when...” Race started.

“Shaddup,” said Jack. He turned to Katherine. “Ready for Santa Fe?”

She smiled back at his beaten face. “Let’s go.”


End file.
